


Let's Pretend Everything's Okay

by lionheart (cruel_oath)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Past Torture, Slow Burn, World of Ruin, promnised land big bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruel_oath/pseuds/lionheart
Summary: Ardyn Izunia has taken a lot from Noctis and his friends―Ignis' sight, Prompto's spirit, and now, the prince himself. Worse yet, without the Oracle to fend off the starscourge, they are left in a world devoid of light and crawling with daemons. In spite of how dark the world around them is, though, Ignis manages to find a little light for himself.





	Let's Pretend Everything's Okay

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the Promnised Land Big Bang. It's been a few years since I've written anything of this length, but I'm incredibly proud that I was able to pull this off. This was the first big bang I've participated in and I'm _very_ glad I had the opportunity to do so and I look forward to doing more in the future.
> 
> A very special thank you to [Larkawolfgirl](larkawolfgirl.tumblr.com) for beta reading this fic and offering suggestions to improve the story. And thanks to the lovely [lil-peach-pit](https://lil-peach-pit.tumblr.com) for the [gorgeous artwork](https://lil-peach-pit.tumblr.com/post/167470997000/my-artwork-part-of-promnised-lands-2017-big) below.

 

Nobody could bring themselves to say anything after Ardyn left.

The crystal behind them shined brightly, seeming to gloat. It held their king―their friend, their **_brother_** ―and refused to let him go. Though he knew it was all a part of the prophecy, every fiber of Ignis’ being boiled with hatred towards the gods.

Ignis’ years of careful training refused to allow him to grieve―not now, not while they were still in danger. He forced all his anger back down, as deep as it would go.

They had left the chamber, unable to stomach the sight of the crystal any longer. Prompto wordlessly took his place beside Ignis, catching him when he stumbled in spite of his injuries. There were no wisecracks, no worried questions―only silence.

Whatever defective MTs they encountered were quickly dispatched by Gladio, who took his anger out on them without any reservations. Their numbers only grew the further along they went. Ignis knew Gladio had plenty of stamina, but even he had his limits.

“Gladio,” Ignis finally said, “We should look for a safer route. The less fighting we need to do, the better.”

If Gladio had any intention of resisting, his protests died when he took a good look at Prompto. He let out a sigh, as though he decided the last thing Prompto needed to deal with was his anger.

“We passed a dormitory a little while back,” Gladio said.

“Perhaps it would do us some good to take a break,” Ignis concurred. “And I’m sure you must be exhausted, Prompto.”

“I’m fine. I can keep going.” Prompto tried to keep his tone cheerful, but Ignis could hear how hollow it sounded.

“I ain’t buying it, Prompto,” Gladio said. “You nearly got yourself killed by those rogue MTs twice, and if Ignis hadn’t pulled you out of the way in time, we’d be down another friend.”

Prompto froze, his eyes going wide. Gladio huffed, kneeling down so he was at Prompto’s level. “Please, kid. If you won’t do it for yourself, then at least do it for us.”

It was silent for a moment before Prompto finally agreed. They backtracked, finding the dormitory just around the corner.

“I’m going to see if I can find a safer route out of here,” Gladio said once Prompto was settled. “For now, just take it easy, and _please_ don’t go wandering off.”

For whatever reason, Prompto didn’t put up a fight. Ignis suspected it was because Gladio had used the gentle tone he tended to reserve for Iris.

Silence fell over them when Gladio left. It was becoming more and more unsettling to Ignis, and as he sat down next to Prompto, he winced at how loud the creaking of the bed sounded. Prompto, however, made no sound of acknowledgment, no move to lighten the mood.

“Prompto?” His voice was quiet, just in case Prompto had fallen asleep.

“I’m f-fine,” Prompto croaked.

Ignis frowned, placing a comforting hand on Prompto’s arm. He flinched, but didn’t move away. Ignis could feel him shaking with silent tears.

“Prompto…” For once, Ignis wasn’t sure what to say. Nothing would take away the memories of being at Ardyn’s mercy. Nothing would bring Noctis back.

Not knowing what else to do, Ignis helped Prompto into a sitting position. He pulled him to his chest, holding him as he let out heart-wrenching sobs. He pushed the swell of anger down as far as it would go, reminding himself that it wouldn’t help anything right now.

Prompto’s sobs eventually died down to a few sniffles and shaky breaths. Ignis held him until he pulled away, mumbling a quiet apology.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Prompto,” Ignis said. He pulled his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket, offering it to Prompto.

Quietly thanking Ignis, Prompto accepted it. He wiped away his tears, remaining silent.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Ignis asked.

Prompto froze, and for a moment, Ignis thought he was going to go into a panic attack. He took a moment to collect himself before letting out a shaky sigh. “I'd rather not. At least, not now.”

Ignis nodded, hearing a soft sigh of relief out of the gunner. “When you're ready to talk about it, I'll be here.”

“Thank you, Ignis.”

“Of course.”

Silence fell over the two of them. Ignis remained by Prompto's side, just in case he was needed.

Gladio returned shortly thereafter, having found a safe route out of the Keep. He checked in with Prompto, offering to allow him to rest a little longer. Prompto refused, insisting he was ready to go.

“Fine,” Gladio relented, “but if you need a break, let us know, alright? That goes for you, too, Iggy.”

Ignis hummed in agreement, extending his cane. Prompto was at his side in an instant, ready to guide him through the Keep.

“Prompto, you don’t need to worry about me,” Ignis said, “especially with your injuries.”

“They look worse than they actually are, I promise.” Prompto had managed to inject some of his sunny disposition back into his voice, but deep down, Ignis could hear something desperate.

“So be it,” Ignis finally said. “All I ask is that you not push yourself too hard. Can I hold you to that?”

Prompto hesitated, prompting Ignis to give him a glare. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get away with lying, Prompto nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“We better get going,” Gladio said, “I’m willing to bet that route won’t stay clear.”

Gladio took the lead, his greatsword drawn. Ignis followed behind, Prompto at his side. Though he knew he was only trying to help, he thought he was staying much closer to him than usual.

Ignis said nothing. If remaining close to him made Prompto feel safe, then he’d humor him.

Ignis had been getting better at walking on his own. He was now able to navigate without tripping over his own two feet and only occasionally stumbled, but Ignis had missed having Prompto at his side. Even as their situation grew bleaker, he radiated hope, refusing to allow their impending doom to darken his skies.

 _That was before his best friend pushed him off a train_ , Ignis reminded himself. Those skies were darkening because of what Ardyn had done, and no amount of acting on Prompto's part would convince him otherwise.

“We should probably take a break,” Gladio said, pulling Ignis out of his thoughts. “There's a dormitory up ahead and it's the only one on this route.”

Ignis half-expected Prompto to protest, but he didn't. He led Ignis into the dormitory, where they sat on the nearest bed.

“How’re you holding up, Prompto?” Ignis asked, collapsing his cane and setting it aside.

“I'll be doing better once we get the hell out of here,” Prompto said.

Gladio let out a grunt of agreement. “We’ll need to get our hands on some potions. You look like you need a few.”

Prompto opened his mouth, as though he wanted to brush off his concerns. Ignis silenced him with a glare, the same one he often used when Noctis refused to eat his vegetables.

Once Prompto was confident that he could make it the rest of the way without collapsing, the trio continued their trek out of the Keep. Gladio dispatched the MTs with little trouble, clearing their path to the exit.

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Gladio huffed.

“I'm with you there, big guy,” Prompto said, a bare hint of relief in his voice. He pulled his wristband down enough to expose his barcode and approached the control panel.

“If I'm not mistaken,” Ignis said as the doors opened, “there should be an outpost not too far away. We might be able to seek refuge there until we are able to find reliable transportation.”

“‘Reliable transportation?’ Did something happen to the Regalia?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Ignis sighed.

“She got destroyed when we arrived,” Gladio explained. “Got us here in one piece, though.”

Prompto went silent. Ignis could picture the look of guilt on his face. “There's a good chance she would've been destroyed even if you were with us, Prompto. There was nothing any of us could've done, and I'm sure you would not have been able to change anything.”

“Uh… guys?”

“What is it, big g—oh, _shit!_ ”

“What's going on?” Ignis asked.

“Daemons,” Gladio growled. “They're everywhere.”

Ignis’ blood ran cold. A daemon here and there was no problem, but taking on a sea of them was a death wish. “Is this our only way out?”

“Looks like it,” Gladio said. He turned to Prompto. “Unless you happen to know about a secret passage?”

“Wrong facility, big guy,” Prompto said, an air of humor in his voice. “I could try to find a map and see if there’s another way, but we’d have to go back to a lab and I’d need to―”

“We don’t have time for that,” Ignis said. “What we need to do is clear a path. I still have a few flasks on me. That should be enough to blast them back long enough for us to make a run for it.”

Gladio took the flasks. “You two stay here. I’ll clear a path.”

Prompto glared at Gladio. “Like hell, we’re gonna let you go out there by yourself! That’s suicide!”

“You and Ignis are―”

Ignis crossed his arms. “I’m quite capable of fighting, Gladio. Have I not proved this to you?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Six, Gladio, we already lost one friend!” Prompto hissed, “I’m not going to stand by and lose another!”

Ignis gave Gladio a smirk, prepared to give him a snide remark. Instead, he was tackled to the ground. He let out a gasp of confusion, about to ask what was going on when he heard a gunshot.

“I take it we were spotted?” Ignis asked.

“We took too long,” Gladio huffed. “Our only option now is to fight. Pick your battles, you two. Get out of here in one piece.”

“We expect the same from you,” Ignis said, summoning his daggers. “Prompto, stay close to me.”

“Funny,” Prompto said, “I was just about to say the same to you.”

Ignis smirked grimly, following Gladio out of the Keep. The daemons immediately lunged, instantly overwhelming them. Ignis hurled spells and weaved past them as best as he could, but even he could tell they were making little progress.

“There’s too many of them,” Ignis shouted. “We need to get out!”

“They just keep coming,” Gladio barked. “You kill one, three more take its place.”

Ignis grit his teeth, feeling Prompto’s back pressed against his. Even over the chaos surrounding, Ignis could hear his labored breathing.

“Prompto, to your left!”

Gladio’s warning came too late. Before Prompto had a chance to react, a Ronin rushed him, stabbing him in the side. He let out a choked gasp, falling to the ground.

Ignis swore, turning to face the Ronin. He switched his daggers out for his lance and impaled the daemon, his attention immediately going to Prompto as it turned to ash. He felt around for him, his hand eventually touching his shoulder.

“Prompto?” Ignis asked, willing himself to remain calm.

Prompto could only groan in response. He tried to sit up, only to let out a cry of pain. Ignis grit his teeth, struggling to fight back the daemons that began to swarm them.

A daemon lunged at him from behind, pinning him to the ground. He felt its claws sink into his skin, forcing a pained gasp out of him. He tried to move, but it was too strong.

Over the chaos, Ignis could hear the humming of a magitek engine. He let out a bitter laugh, feeling whatever hope he had left fade away.

_This is it. We’re going to die now, aren’t we?_

Ignis felt the earth shake beneath him as something landed a few meters away from him. He let out a confused sound as the daemon was struck off of him.

“Get the hell up,” came a woman’s voice. “On the ship, now.”

The voice was familiar, but for some reason or another, Ignis couldn’t place it. She cursed, pulling him up forcefully and pushing him towards the airship.

“Have you gone deaf, too, Specs? Go, now!” _Aranea, it had to be her._

Ignis started to move, only to stop and turn around. “Prompto―”

“The big guy has him,” Aranea barked. “Now _move._ ”

Ignis obliged, running onto the ship. Gladio was right behind him, an unconscious Prompto in his arms.

“How bad does it look?” Ignis asked as the door shut.

“It’s not looking too good. He’s losing a lot of blood,” Gladio said. “I used the last potion I had in my emergency stock, but it only slowed the bleeding down.”

Ignis grimaced, guilt settling into the pit of his stomach. “I used the last of mine in the Keep. Noct must have the rest.”

“Hand him over,” Aranea said, “I’ll get him to the infirmary and patch him up.”

Gladio narrowed his eyes at her. “Maybe I should―”

“The kid’s a twig,” Aranea said, a hint of irritation in her voice. “I can carry him without any problems. If you don’t want him to bleed out, hand him over.”

Gladio relented, passing Prompto off to her. She turned, rushing down the hall. “Biggs, Wedge, you get them taken care of.”

Ignis began to follow Aranea, only to be stopped by Gladio. He turned sharply, giving him a half-hearted glare. “I want to help, Gladio.”

“I know you do, Iggy, but you’re injured, too,” Gladio said. “We need to get that shoulder cleaned up before it gets infected.”

“But―”

“Yer friend’s in good hands,” Biggs assured. “Lady Aranea’ll have ‘im cleaned up in no time.”

“Please, Ignis,” Gladio begged. “Worry about yourself for now.”

Ignis let out a sigh, knowing that there was no use in arguing. He extended his cane and allowed Wedge to lead him to the barracks.

“Hey, uh,” Wedge mumbled, “weren’t there four o’ ya?”

Ignis let out a shaky breath. “Yes.”

“What happened to ‘im?”

“It’s a long, painful story,” Gladio cut in. “We’d rather not talk about it.”

Ignis nodded in agreement. Wedge hummed in understanding but didn’t say anything more. An overwhelmingly awkward silence fell over them.

It felt like years had passed when the silence was broken by Biggs, who had retrieved the first aid kit. “Normally we’d give ya a potion,” he said apologetically, “but our supply of curatives is low.”

Ignis remained silent as Wedge cleaned and bandaged his shoulder. “That daemon dug its claws in pretty deep, but it didn’t nick an artery. It should heal up quick if yer careful with that shoulder.”

Ignis nodded, quietly thanking him.

“We owe you guys,” Gladio said. “If you hadn’t shown up, we’d be as good as dead.”

“Indeed,” Ignis sighed. “With the way everything has been going, I was almost certain that was the end.”

“It’s a bloody good thing we seem to run into each other at the right time, huh?” Biggs asked.

Gladio let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Still, thank you.”

Biggs and Wedge left to check on Prompto, per Ignis’ request. As soon as the door shut behind them, Gladio asked, “Did Prompto tell you anything while you two were alone?”

Ignis shook his head. “He refused to tell me what happened. I certainly don’t blame him for not wanting to talk about it, though.” He pulled his glasses off, his free hand ghosting over his scar. “If he asked about my eye, I’d be reluctant to tell him.”

“You have any theories?” Gladio asked.

“I do,” Ignis said, his tone grim. “He’s been tortured, that much I can determine, but I’m certain it was more than purely physical. He’s had to have done something to him mentally.”

Gladio let out a grunt of agreement. “Without a doubt. Kid’s been a mess since we got him back―I almost don’t want to know what he did.”

“It would be better if we find out sooner, but I have no intention of forcing him to speak before he’s ready.” Ignis slid his glasses back on. “It would be wise to wait, given his current―”

The door opened, cutting Ignis off. Wedge poked his head in. “Lady Aranea’s patched ‘im up. Yer free to check in on ‘im, if you’d like.”

Ignis stood, following Wedge out of the barracks and down the hall. Gladio hovered at his side, offering a quick word of guidance when they turned a corner or came to a stop.

The infirmary was deadly quiet, save for the beeping of Prompto’s heart monitor and the water running from the sink. Aranea glanced back at them, then turned her attention back to scrubbing the blood off her hands.

“Gladio?” Ignis whispered.

“I’ve never seen him look so small, Ignis,” Gladio mumbled.

Ignis could detect pain and concern in his voice, all of it hiding beneath a sea of anger. He forced himself to remain calm―there was a time and place for anger, but this wasn’t it.

“If you hadn’t given him that potion, I doubt shortcake would be breathing,” Aranea said, walking towards them. “He’s one hell of a lucky kid, though―if that daemon had aimed a few centimeters to the left, it would’ve severed an artery. I gave him a potion, but all it did was mend a few of the deeper cuts and get rid of some of the bruises. His ribs are still cracked and he’s got a pretty high fever.”

“You able to spare another potion?” Gladio asked.

Aranea sighed, shaking her head. “As much as I want to, I have to save them for emergencies. I can’t waste them on people who aren’t dying. He’ll be fine for another day as long as I keep the painkillers coming.”

Ignis let out a hum of understanding. “Still, we thank you for what you’ve done for us so far.”

“Bailing you guys out is one of my many talents.” Aranea crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “So, what happened to him?”

“We don’t know any details,” Gladio sighed. “Ardyn got him sometime after he fell off the train and put him through hell, but he won’t tell us what he did.”

Aranea’s brows furrowed, but she said nothing. Instead, she huffed, pushing herself off the wall. “Where’re you heading?”

“Caem,” Ignis said, grateful for the change of subject. “We have friends waiting there.”

“We can drop you off there,” Aranea said. “It’ll be a few days, but it won’t kill you to rest. Biggs, Wedge, I’m sure we’ve got a room somewhere on this ship. Mind setting them up with one?”

Biggs gave a silent nod in response, walking towards the door. Gladio turned to follow, but Ignis didn’t move.

“C’mon, Iggy. You should rest.”

“I’d much rather stay and look after Prompto,” Ignis said.

Gladio let out a sigh. “Ignis, you won't be any help to him if you're exhausted—”

“I'm staying, Gladio. At least until his fever breaks.”

Gladio paused. “I'll hold you to that, even if I have to drag you out of here.”

“Understood.” Ignis turned his attention back to Prompto. Gladio followed Biggs and Wedge out, leaving him with Aranea and Prompto.

It was silent for a few minutes before Aranea spoke up. “If you're going to stay, you might as well sit down. There's a chair to your left.”

Ignis moved his hand and, true to her word, he felt a chair. He sat down slowly, pulling the chair closer to the bed.

“Prompto had something important to tell you guys,” Aranea said quietly. “Did he ever get the chance to say it?”

It took Ignis a moment to realize what she was referring to. “He did.”

“That's good to hear. It bothered the hell outta him. He was so scared you’d think he was a traitor.”

“May I ask how you know about it?”

“I was there when he found out.”

Ignis’ head shot up. “You were there? Then why didn't you _help_ —”

“Don't get your panties in a bunch,” Aranea barked. “He got captured when we went our separate ways.”

Ignis flinched. He let out a sigh, his anger quickly being replaced by guilt. “My apologies. It was foolish of me to make such assumptions.”

Aranea huffed, sitting in the chair on the other side of Prompto. “I'll let it slide this time, Specs.”

Ignis let out a tired sigh, forcing himself to relax. “I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to have learned he came from such a terrible place. It’s no wonder he was so nervous about telling us.”

“He was thinking about not coming back,” Aranea said, her voice soft. “He was so scared to hear what you all had to say. It was actually pretty unsettling, seeing him get so worked up over it.”

“What happened, Aranea? I know you weren’t there the entire time, but maybe if I know _something_ , I can piece it together.”

Aranea leaned back in her chair. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

“I have more than enough time on my hands.”

“I suppose you do,” Aranea said. Her gaze shifted to Prompto. “I ran into Prompto while I was searching for answers. I sent him on his way―gave him my map, told him to meet me at my campsite―and when I met up with him again, it looked like he was having an existential crisis.”

Ignis frowned. He reached out, his hand finding Prompto’s wrist. There was a patch of skin that felt different, something scarred over. “What’s this?”

“That would be the existential crisis,” Aranea said. “He tried to get rid of the barcode.”

Ignis took Prompto's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his tongue.

“It took a lot of convincing to get him to meet up with you,” Aranea said, her voice quiet. “I even had to knock some sense into him. I'll give him this, though—he's a brave little shit.”

Aranea’s tone had changed to something fond. Ignis could picture an amused smirk on her face as she spoke of her time with Prompto, how he somehow managed to push aside all his fears in search of answers.

“We went our separate ways after all that,” Aranea said. “I pointed him towards Gralea, told him to meet you guys there… but I guess that creepy chancellor got to him first. If I had known, I would've—”

“But you didn't,” Ignis said, his voice calm. “I don't blame you for not knowing. In fact, if you hadn't intervened at all, I'm not so sure he’d be here.”

Aranea let out a soft sigh. “Still… I can't help but kick myself for it. I'm just glad he's not dead.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow, giving her a playful smirk.

“The hell’s that look for, Specs?”

“It seems you’ve grown quite fond of Prompto.”

Aranea huffed, but Ignis could detect no malice. “I guess you could say shortcake has grown on me. But only a little bit.” She stood, walking towards the door. “I've got some work that needs to be done. I’ll come back in a few hours to check on him.”

Ignis nodded, his grip on Prompto's hand tightening slightly. As soon as Aranea shut the door, the room was silent, save for sharp beeping of the heart monitor.

Ignis let out a sigh. “Please wake up soon, Prompto. I don't think I can handle losing another friend.”

As Ignis sat there, holding Prompto's hand and waiting for him to wake up, he felt exhaustion finally set in. He tried to brush it off, but the thought of sleep was inviting…

 _Perhaps a few minutes wouldn’t hurt_ , Ignis thought. He shut his eyes, allowing sleep to take him.

* * *

A scream brought Ignis out of his dreams.

His first instinct was to summon his daggers, but Ignis quickly reminded himself of where he was. _The infirmary on Aranea’s airship, waiting for Prompto to―_

Ignis heard muffled gasps and heart-wrenching sobs. The heart monitor was beeping much faster than it had been before. He reached out to offer a comforting hand, but missed, only coming into contact with the blankets. He could feel the bed shaking with the force of Prompto’s sobs, bringing a frown to his face.

_A nightmare. It had to be._

“Prompto?” Ignis’ voice was calm, hoping it’d break through whatever trance the gunslinger was in. He reached out once again, trying to do something to help the poor boy, but his hand was swatted away.

Before Ignis could say anything, Prompto practically hissed at him. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

The malice in Prompto’s voice made Ignis flinch. “Prompto, what’s gotten into you?”

“You can’t fool me,” Prompto spat, summoning his gun. “N-not again, you bastard.”

Ignis froze. Something in the back of his mind clicked into place. “Prompto, it’s me. It’s Ignis.”

“Shut up,” Prompto mumbled, his voice cracking.

Ignis licked his lips, taking a moment to think of a way to convince him. “Prompto, do you remember the day we met?”

When Prompto didn’t respond, Ignis continued. “I came to pick Noct up from his first day of high school. Normally, he came alone, but that day, he brought you along. He introduced us, then asked if you could join us for dinner. Do you remember that?”

“Y-yes.” The gun lowered a little, but Ignis could still feel Prompto’s gaze on him.

“The two of you played video games when we arrived, and I attended to a few matters that required my attention. When I began to prepare dinner, however, you stopped playing and asked if there was anything you could do to help. I initially turned down your help, but it seemed to disappoint you, so I asked you to set the table instead. You took setting the table very seriously, you know. I remember you tried to make conversation, but I… I was never much of a conversationalist.”

The gun disappeared. Prompto let out a pitiful whimper. “Ignis, I―”

A choked sob tore its way through Prompto's throat. Ignis stood, climbing onto the bed and pulling the gunner into his arms.

“I’m s-sorry,” Prompto gasped, “I’m so sorry, Ignis.”

Ignis shushed him, his hand finding its way into Prompto's hair. “You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“I could've… I c-could've—”

“But you didn't,” Ignis murmured. “You didn’t.”

Prompto went silent, save for the occasional sob and pitiful sniffles. Ignis could only hold him until he fell asleep, drained of what little energy he had left.

Ignis couldn’t bring himself to leave after Prompto fell asleep. Even if he wanted to, the grip Prompto had on his shirt kept him from leaving. With a soft sigh, Ignis carefully shifted into a position that would be more comfortable for the two of them.

As Prompto slept, Ignis’ thoughts turned to the events of the past few days. It felt like years had gone by since they left for Altissa, but it had only been a few _weeks_. So much had happened since the fall of Insomnia, he hadn’t had a chance to process any of it until now.

It was too much.

Ignis buried his face into Prompto’s hair and _wept_ , choking back the sobs so he wouldn’t wake the gunner. All at once, memories played through his head at a dizzying speed.

_Ardyn stood above him in Altissa. He couldn’t hear the words he spoke over the rain. His blood boiled, glaring at the chancellor with enough venom to kill._

_Then, nothing._

Ignis tightened his hold on Prompto, a strangled cry clawing its way out of his throat.

_Prompto steadied him as he stumbled off the train, gently guiding him in the right direction. He stood up for him when Gladio suggested Ignis stay behind, uncharacteristic anger surfacing in his tone._

_“It’s not about us looking after him!”_

_“Uh-huh. Well, then he should be free to choose.”_

Ignis fought for control, trying to follow the procedure he came up for Prompto when he had a panic attack.

_Prompto slept in one of the dormitory beds, curled up at Noctis’ side. The three of them discussed strategies, determined to get to the crystal with as little fuss as possible._

_“Think we should leave him here?” Noctis asked._

_“Kid looks like he needs the rest,” Gladio mumbled._

_Ignis was silent for a beat too long. “I… I don’t think he would want to be left behind.”_

_“He’s_ **_hurt_ ** _, Ig―”_

_“He should be free to choose.”_

Eventually, the sobs stopped, replaced by a few hiccups and sniffles. Ignis wiped away the tears, letting out a sigh of relief when he heard Prompto’s faint snores. Satisfied that the gunner hadn’t been disturbed by his grieving, he tried to relax, hoping sleep would claim him.

Sleep never did come. With a huff of frustration, Ignis carefully worked his way out of Prompto’s grasp. He moved slowly as he climbed out of the bed, gently pulling the blankets up to Prompto’s shoulders before sitting back down in the chair.

The minutes passed at an agonizingly slow pace. Ignis tried to keep his thoughts from wandering again, searching for something to ground himself. Eventually, he settled on listening to the sharp beeping of Prompto's heart monitor.

Ignis wasn't sure how much time had passed when the door opened. He fought the urge to turn towards the door, knowing he wouldn't know who it was until they spoke.

“Hey.” Gladio’s voice was quiet, concern just barely detectable.

“Gladio,” Ignis murmured in greeting.

“How’s he holding up?” Gladio asked, sitting in the chair on Prompto's other side.

Ignis let out a tired sigh. “A nightmare woke him. He thought that I was Ardyn.”

“Did he tell you anything?” Gladio asked, not bothering to mask his anger.

Ignis shook his head. “He didn't. I do have a theory, though.”

“Six, you don't mean—”

“It's certainly possible. Ardyn isn't above masquerading as us, especially if his goal is to break us.” Ignis reached out to stroke Prompto's hair. “And I’d say he's succeeded.”

Gladio let out a low growl, anger radiating from him. “That bastard…”

“Gladio,” Ignis warned, “I understand you’re angry―”

“You’re damn right, I’m angry,” Gladio shouted. “Look at everything he’s done to us! He took your sight, Prompto’s spirit, and our _brother_. How the hell are you not angry?”

“ _Gladio,_ ” Ignis hissed. “Of course I’m angry! But anger won’t help Prompto. Anger won’t make Noct return before the gods are willing to let him go. Anger won’t bring back my sight.”

Ignis could feel Gladio’s gaze on him. He was certain the shield would start yelling again, but he only heard a sigh in response.

“I guess you’re right,” Gladio said, his voice quiet. “But Ardyn _is_ going to pay for everything.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Ignis said. “For now, though, we need to—”

Ignis was cut off by the sound of the door opening. He gave Gladio a questioning look, but Aranea made her presence known before he could say anything in response.

“We’re nearing an outpost,” Aranea said. “We should be landing in about ten minutes. I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to see if you two want to come along.”

“It would be a good idea for us to replenish our own supply of curatives,” Ignis said. He was hesitant, though—going to the outpost with Aranea meant leaving Prompto alone.

“I'll have Biggs and Wedge look after him,” Aranea said, as though she could read his mind. She paused, checking Prompto's temperature. “His fever’s gone down a bit. Nothing a little more rest can't take care of.”

Ignis stood, extending his cane. _It won't hurt to get out for a bit._

Ignis followed Aranea out of the airship, trying not to think about how quiet the shop would be without the two most rambunctious members of the group with them. There’d be no questions about what he’d be making for dinner, or if they’d be camping “for the gazillionth time,” or if they had the funds for something completely unnecessary. At the beginning of their journey, Ignis would’ve found the silence relaxing, but now, it was only a bitter reminder of what they lost.

As they entered the shop, Ignis felt greatly unsettled by the quiet. He was able to hear the music the shopkeeper played on her radio clearly, even with it at a low volume. He assumed they must’ve been the only people in the shop.

“You alright, Iggy?” Gladio asked, his voice quiet.

Ignis let out a sigh in response. The answer apparently wasn't enough for Gladio, as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me, Ignis.”

Ignis hesitated, the grip on his cane tightening. “It doesn't feel right without them here, Gladio.”

Ignis felt Gladio’s grip loosen ever-so slightly. He heard a humorless chuckle out of the shield. “You’ve got that right. I can’t fucking believe I’m saying this, but… I miss it.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Ignis said, “lest it come true.”

The two of them shopped in silence, gathering enough curatives to replenish their supply. To keep his mind from wandering, Ignis fixated on the music that played faintly. The twangy guitars were grating but better than thinking about everything that had happened so far.

Ignis was pulled out of his thoughts by someone tapping on his shoulder. Before he could ask, Gladio mumbled, “You’ve been standing there for ten minutes. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“My apologies,” Ignis sighed. “I’m afraid my mind’s on other things.”

Gladio seemed to understand that Ignis didn’t want to get into it, as he didn’t try to push him. “There’s a diner next door. Why don’t we go there while we wait for Aranea to finish up here?”

Ignis nodded, seeing no reason in staying. He allowed Gladio to lead him out of the shop, managing not to stumble as they reached the diner.

As soon as they set foot in the diner, Ignis’ stomach growled. He couldn’t even remember when the last time they properly ate was. Before he could say anything, Gladio guided him over to a booth.

“Don't think I didn't hear that,” Gladio said. Ignis could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I hadn't realized how long it's been,” Ignis sighed. “Everything happened so quickly.”

Gladio let out a grunt of agreement. He walked away to order their food, coming back a few minutes later.

“We’re running low on funds, Iggy,” Gladio said, his voice quiet. “We’ve got just enough for emergencies, but we're cutting it close.”

“That’s quite troublesome,” Ignis said. “We need to―”

“ _There_ you are!” Aranea’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. “Geez, give a gal a warning next time you go running off.”

“Apologies,” Ignis said. “We thought it best to kill time while we waited for you to replenish your stock.”

Aranea shrugged, nudging Gladio over so she could sit in the booth. “It's whatever. There's not too much to do around here.”

A waitress brought their food over to them. Gladio helped Ignis find his food, grumbling, “Burger and fries. Seemed like the safest option here.”

Ignis shrugged, carefully picking up the burger. He would've preferred something less messy, but it was a better alternative to soup. Regardless of his feelings, though, his stomach demanded that he eat without complaining.

Ignis managed to get through the burger without making too much of a mess. The fries went over better, with only two being dropped.

Finally, Gladio broke the silence. “How much longer do you think we’ll be here, Aranea?”

“Probably not much longer,” Aranea said, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I was talking to the tipster over there,” Gladio said, pointing towards the man at the counter. “Apparently there's a behemoth making their lives a living hell.”

Aranea smirked. “How much?”

“Fifty thousand gil. It's been at it for months. Twenty people have tried, but nobody's come back alive.”

 _Nobody’s come back alive._ That got Ignis’ attention. He opened his mouth to try to convince them to rethink this, but Gladio cut him off.

“We need the money,” Gladio said. “With a hunt like this, we’ll be set.”

There was an unspoken plea in the air, one that Ignis could hear clearly. He was painfully aware of the anger he was swallowing back for Prompto’s sake, and this hunt was an opportunity to let it all out.

“Then at the very least, let me go with you,” Ignis said.

“It’s too dangerous, Ignis,” Gladio said. “I know you’re starting to get used to fighting without your sight, but―”

“We lost Noct, and we almost lost Prompto! I refuse to tempt fate once more.”

“Oh, but it’s okay for you to put your life on the―”

“If you two shitheads don’t shut up, you’ll cause a scene,” Aranea hissed. Ignis could feel her glare cast upon the both of them. “Fuck’s sakes, _I’ll go_ … for half the bounty.”

Ignis felt some of the tension leave him. “I have no objection to that. Gladio?”

“Only if you stay behind and look after Prompto,” Gladio said.

Ignis reluctantly agreed. “Just… come back alive.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get his ass killed, mother hen,” Aranea teased, standing up. “I’ll have one of my men escort you back to the airship.”

Before Ignis had a chance to change his mind, Aranea called one of her men over. “This is one of shortcake’s friends. Do me a favor and take him to him, okay? I’m sure if the kid’s awake, he’ll be happy to see him.”

“Of course, Lady Aranea,” the soldier said. He turned towards Ignis. “You ready?”

“Whenever you are,” Ignis said.

As he was lead out of the diner, he prayed that the gods would be merciful toward Gladio. _Please, let him come back alive. Haven’t you taken enough?_

Ignis found it difficult to allow his mind to wander. The soldier was quite chatty, barely giving him a chance to respond to the questions he asked.

Ordinarily, the chatter would've been annoying, especially when it came from someone who changed the topic at random. By now, he would've snapped at him, asking for some _silence_ , but for once, he was grateful. It kept his mind off the crystal and, as he quickly discovered, made time fly by.

When they arrived at the airship, Biggs was waiting for them. He thanked him internally when he told the soldier he’d take over. Once the soldier was out of earshot, Biggs chuckled.

“The kid's got a good head on ‘is shoulders, honest,” Biggs said, “but ‘e never knows when to shut the bloody hell up.”

Ignis responded with a quiet hum of agreement. Biggs silently lead him down the hall, opening the door to the infirmary.

When Ignis stepped inside, he could hear Prompto’s voice, excitedly offering suggestions to improve the airship’s performance. Wedge only encouraged him, building on his ideas, which only lead to _more_ suggestions.

Ignis hadn’t realized how much he had missed hearing Prompto ramble like this. When they had started their journey, he would’ve given _anything_ for a few minutes of silence. Now, though, Ignis didn’t want him to stop.

“Heya, Iggy!” Prompto greeted. The cheer in his voice was genuine, but Ignis didn’t miss the exhaustion lying underneath.

Ignis gave Prompto a small smile, allowing Biggs to guide him to the chair beside the bed. “I apologize I wasn’t here when you woke up. The airship stopped at an outpost to resupply, so Gladio and I took the opportunity to gather supplies for when we part ways with Aranea and her crew.”

“No worries!” Prompto said, “Besides, Biggs and Wedge have been keeping me company.”

“Kid knows ‘is tech,” Wedge said. “If we didn’t already ‘ave a mechanic, I think we’d offer the job to ‘im.”

Biggs let out a laugh. “Montem could learn a thing or two from ‘im, if you ask me. Maybe when you're feeling better, we’ll let you take a look at the engine.”

Prompto grinned. “I’d love to, if you get the time.”

Wedge chuckled, standing up. “We’d better see how repairs are going. Lady Aranea won’t be too pleased if we aren’t ready to leave by the time she gets back.”

The two officers left the room, with Wedge promising to tell Prompto more about the airship’s technology on his way out. Ignis heard the door shut, leaving him alone with the gunner.

“How’re you feeling, Prompto?” Ignis asked.

“I’m alright, Iggy,” Prompto said. “No need to worry about me.”

Ignis chuckled. “I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that.”

Prompto let out a tired laugh. “Guess you’re right.” He paused. “Hey, Ignis?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s Gladio? I would’ve thought he’d be with you.”

“He’s on a hunt with Aranea,” Ignis said. “He brought our dwindling funds to my attention, though I suspect that was merely a point he made to allow him to go.”

Prompto didn’t respond for several minutes. Finally, he asked, “You think he’ll come back okay?”

“Aranea should keep him from doing anything rash,” Ignis assured. “As much as I hate to admit it, though, he needs it. This is his way of coping.”

Prompto let out a soft sound of agreement but didn’t say anything else. Ignis frowned, feeling the atmosphere in the room change completely.

“Prompto,” Ignis murmured, “are you quite sure you’re alright?”

Ignis heard Prompto inhale, as though he wanted to say something. There was a pause, then an exhale.

An uncomfortable silence set upon them, and for several minutes, Ignis was afraid to break it. He debated whether or not to bring up Gralea. Clearly, it was bothering Prompto, but Ignis knew forcing him to open up would only make things worse.

Astrals, the very last thing the poor boy needed was for things to get worse.

“Prompto?” Ignis asked.

“Yeah?”

 _What happened in Gralea?_ “You and Wedge were talking about the airship, correct? Would you mind telling me about it?”

The grin returned to Prompto’s face. “Well, for starters, this isn’t a standard-issue magitek engine…”

* * *

Ignis hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until Gladio gently shook him awake.

“Oh… you’ve returned,” Ignis mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“Yeah,” Gladio said. “I, uh… thank you, Ignis… for not trying to stop me.”

Ignis nodded in understanding. “We all have our coping mechanisms.”

Gladio gave a tired laugh in response. “Guess so.” He turned his attention to Aranea. “Any improvement?”

“His fever’s doing better,” Aranea said. “I think after another potion and a little more rest, he should be back on his feet.”

Gladio let out a sigh. “Good to hear. Seeing him like this… it doesn’t feel right.”

Ignis opened his mouth to say something, but a yawn escaped instead. He internally swore, hoping that Gladio would allow him to stay with Prompto.

“Ignis, maybe you should get some sleep,” Gladio said.

“I’ve slept plenty,” Ignis yawned.

“C’mon, Iggy… you haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in _weeks_.”

“Gladio, I’m perfectly capable of―”

“For fuck’s sake, Specs, it’s not going to kill you to get some rest,” Aranea said, struggling to keep her voice quiet.

“Aranea, with all due respect―”

Aranea huffed, grabbing Ignis by his good shoulder and forcing him to his feet. “Do you honestly think you’ll be of any help to Prompto if you aren't taking care of yourself?”

“I’m—”

“Don't you fucking dare tell me you're fine,” Aranea hissed. “You're nowhere near fine.”

Ignis opened his mouth to argue, but his mouth refused to work with him. In the back of his mind, a little voice urged him to listen to Aranea. Even the stubborn part of him agreed that she was right.

He was the furthest thing from okay. Ignis’ pride refused to allow him to outright admit it, but his common sense let it show through the defeated sigh he let out.

“If there is any change in Prompto’s condition, better or worse,” Ignis said, “please wake me. I do not wish to be left in the dark.”

“Of course,” Aranea said, her tone considerably softer. “I’ll look after him, Specs. Just… get some sleep before you pass out again, alright?”

Ignis said nothing in response, allowing Gladio to guide him out of the infirmary. They walked down the hall in silence, Ignis not trusting himself to hold his tongue until they reached the room they were staying in.

“Ignis?”

“Yes, Gladio?”

“Were you able to get him to talk?”

Ignis shook his head, letting out a tired sigh. “I didn't have the heart to bring it up… not when he seemed so cheerful.”

Gladio sighed, but he didn't sound frustrated. “One step at a time, right?”

“I'm prepared to go at whatever pace Prompto's willing to go. If it takes ten years for him to open up, then so be it.”

Gladio chuckled, helping Ignis sit down on one of the beds. “If only you had been that patient with yourself.”

“The circumstances are different. I have a duty to fulfil, just as you do,” Ignis said. “I do not need my vision to do so―though it did help.”

Gladio paused, considering Ignis’ words. “Guess you’re right.”

Silence fell over the two of them. Ignis would’ve thought Gladio had fallen asleep, had he not been able to hear the sound of a page turning. Deciding that he had nothing more to say, he laid down on the bed, letting sleep take him.

* * *

Ignis wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but he did find it difficult to stay awake. He let out a groan, turning away from whoever was trying to disturb his sleep.

He could hear a familiar voice cursing. “C’mon, Iggy, you’re the one who wanted someone to wake you.”

In the back of his mind, Ignis recognized the voice―Gladio. It still wasn’t enough to rouse him, especially after going so long without a proper night’s sleep.

Gladio mumbled something that Ignis couldn’t quite catch. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. “Prompto’s fever broke, Ignis.”

 _That_ got Ignis’ attention. He sat up quickly, nearly smashing Gladio’s nose with his forehead. Before he could ask about seeing Prompto, he felt his glasses being pressed into his hand.

“Aranea’s checking his injuries,” Gladio informed him. “She figured it’d be best to do that before getting him settled into a room, just in case the potions didn’t heal him correctly.”

“Is he awake?” Ignis asked, standing up.

“Yeah. Kid didn’t want me to wake you, y’know,” Gladio said, his voice fond. “I had to promise him that you’d get more sleep after you checked on him. You better not let him down.”

A smile found its way to Ignis’ face, though he felt a twinge of guilt deep down. Of course Prompto was worried―no matter how bad his situation was, he’d always be more concerned about his comrades. Though it was an admirable quality to have, it’d likely end up being the death of the gunner.

“Better not keep him waiting,” Gladio said, pulling Ignis from his thoughts.

Ignis nodded, extending his cane. He followed Gladio out of the room, allowing him to take the lead. By now, he was starting to get used to getting around on his own. He knew the way to the infirmary well enough to make it there without bumping into anything, though the shield’s presence was reassuring.

“Took you long enough,” Aranea said, not looking up from her work.

“My apologies,” Ignis sighed, “I didn’t think it’d be so difficult to wake up.”

“Probably ‘cos you don’t sleep,” Prompto said.

Ignis chuckled, walking over to the gunslinger. “Are you feeling better, Prompto?”

“Yeah,” Prompto mumbled. He sounded tired, but didn’t seem to be in any pain.

“His ribs aren’t quite healed up just yet, but they’re getting there,” Aranea said. “I’ve got him on some painkillers for now, since the potions we’ve given him so far have only sped the process up a little. By the time we get to Caem, though, they should be as good as new.”

“I see,” Ignis said. “What of his other injuries?”

Aranea let out a sigh. “They’ve healed, but most of them have left scars. Shortcake’s going to have quite a few souvenirs from his time in Gralea.”

The smile fell from Ignis’ face. All the anger he had pushed down threatened to force its way back up. He forced himself to breathe, struggling to regain his composure.

_I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him I’ll kill him I’ll kill him I’llkillhim―_

Ignis’ grip tightened on his cane until his fist was shaking. He wanted to say _something_ , but he didn’t trust himself to speak rationally just yet.

“We’re just glad he’s alive,” Gladio said, as though he read Ignis’ mind.

After a few moments of silence, Aranea said, “If you want to take him to your room, you can. I don’t see any reason to keep him here if his life isn’t in any danger.”

“Prompto, will you need any assis...” Ignis’ voice trailed off when he heard faint snores. The gunslinger had apparently drifted off at some point, likely due to the medication Aranea had given him.

Gladio chuckled, lifting Prompto off the bed. “Guess that answers that question, huh?”

Ignis’ lips curved up just a bit. “It would seem so.”

They left the infirmary, a comfortable silence settling over the two of them as they made their way back to their room. Prompto mumbled things in his sleep that were too incoherent for Ignis to make out completely, but judging from the way he sounded, he didn’t seem in any distress.

Ignis could only hope he wouldn’t wake up screaming tonight.

* * *

Soft sobs pulled Ignis out of his sleep. He sat up slowly, turning towards the source of the sound. “Prompto?”

The sobs quieted abruptly. After a moment, he heard Prompto’s shaky reply. “H-hey, Iggy.”

Ignis climbed out of bed, walking the short distance to Prompto’s bed. “Another nightmare?”

Prompto let out a choked sob in response. Ignis frowned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.

“Hush,” Ignis murmured, rubbing soothing circles onto Prompto’s back. “You’re safe. Ard― _he_ can’t hurt you here. Gladio and I won’t let that happen.”

The sob Prompto let out broke Ignis’ heart. Without thinking, he pulled him closer, allowing him to bury his face into his chest. Questions burned at the back of his mind, begging to know what that _monster_ had done to their eternal optimist, but he brushed them off.

Instead, Ignis silently held Prompto. He let him cry as long as he needed to, never once moving away. Eventually, his sobs died down to sniffles and the grip he had on Ignis’ shirt had relaxed.

“Ignis?”

“Yes?”

“Could you stay? Please?”

Ignis could picture Prompto looking up at him, his eyes red and puffy and _pleading_. The thought was haunting―before this trip, he never thought he’d ever hear the boy sound so… _hurt._

There were many things Ignis couldn’t do. He couldn’t bring back Noctis. He couldn’t take away the memories of what Prompto had gone through. He couldn’t turn back time and prevent all this from happening.

Holding Prompto and offering whatever comfort he could, though? Ignis could do that.

* * *

Ignis probably would’ve slept in if Aranea hadn’t come in to check on Prompto.

Aranea woke them up, told them that there was breakfast in the mess hall, and sent Ignis and Gladio out of the room so she could check Prompto’s ribs. Before the door shut, she told them to bring something for the gunner, knowing very well that they’d need a push to get them to leave for a few minutes.

In the back of Ignis’ mind, he knew she had her reasons for sending them away. He didn’t know what happened while Prompto was stranded in Gralea, but he did know that Aranea had been with him long enough for some sort of bond to form. There was some level of trust there, and he had a feeling she was going to use it to get something out of him.

If it meant Ignis would get answers to some of these questions, then he’d play along. Gladio must’ve come to the same conclusion, as he didn’t object to eating their food in the mess hall.

Their thoughts turned to Caem. They’d soon be returning to their friends, but they’d have nothing to show for it―only a blind adviser, a traumatized gunslinger, and a shield without a king to protect.

“Gladio… have you called Iris?”

Gladio was silent for a beat too long. “No. So much had happened and I… I don’t know where to begin.”

“I’m certain news of the Oracle’s death has reached them,” Ignis said. “I’ve no doubt in my mind that she’s quite worried about you. You should call her.”

Gladio let out a shaky sigh. “...Yeah. I will.”

“How much you tell her is up to you… but perhaps it would be best to wait to tell her about Noct until we see her in person. It doesn’t feel right to discuss such matters over a phone call.”

“No arguments here,” Gladio said.

The two of them fell silent. How would they explain everything that’s happened?

“We should head back,” Ignis said, stopping himself from going down that road. “I’m sure Prompto must be hungry.”

Once the two of them had a plate of food for Prompto, they left the mess hall. They walked back to their quarters, neither of them speaking the entire time.

As they approached the room, Ignis could hear Prompto’s voice. He sounded cheerful, rambling about something he couldn’t quite make out.

Upon entering the room, Ignis understood what Prompto was so excited about. He could hear him talking about his photographs, pointing out his favorite shots.

There was an ache in Ignis’ heart. He didn’t have a chance to process the fact that his sight wouldn’t return until now, and he certainly didn’t expect for it to hit him so hard. He’d never be able to see Prompto’s beautiful photographs again. He’d never be able to see the gunner’s eyes light up with excitement as he rambled about the photos he took in the heat of battle. He’d never see that darling blush that spread across Prompto’s cheeks when he was given a compliment on a particular shot.

Ignis felt a hand land on his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. The hand wasn’t big enough to be Gladio’s, and the grip was too strong for it to be Prompto’s.

“Mind if I have a word with you?” Aranea asked, her tone serious.

“Of course,” Ignis said. He allowed her to guide him out of the room, knowing _why_ she wanted to speak.

Aranea wasted no time. As soon as the door shut, she said, “I got him to talk. He didn’t say much, but I figured it was significant enough to tell you.”

“What did he say?”

Aranea let out a sigh. “Prompto told me about what happened a few nights ago… how he pointed his gun at you after a nightmare and almost pulled the trigger. Apparently, while he was imprisoned at Zegnautus Keep, Ardyn had pulled a similar trick on him a few times. He’d disguise himself as one of you and let the poor kid think he was going to be saved, only to reveal himself and remind him that nobody was coming.”

Ignis’ blood ran cold. He had expected Ardyn to do such a thing, but it still shocked him. How could anyone be so cruel?

“Did he say any more?” Ignis asked.

“That’s all he was willing to tell me.”

Ignis nodded, feeling his blood boil. “I understand. Thank you, Aranea.”

* * *

Ignis was thankful he couldn’t see anyone’s reaction to Noctis not being with them. It was difficult enough hearing Iris and Talcott’s sobs―seeing them might’ve reduced him to tears.

They were in the safety of the lighthouse, having parted ways with Aranea only a few minutes prior. Ignis had expected them to come out, weapons drawn, but word had spread of a lone, red magitek engine and its efforts in helping refugees.

Of the three of them, Prompto had the hardest story to tell by far. He struggled to get to the point, rambling and beating around the bush until he got frustrated with himself. He paused, took in a deep breath, and said it quickly, like he was ripping off a bandage. _“I was supposed to be an MT.”_

Thankfully, nobody made a scene. Cid had _laughed_ , even. “Son, yer a pretty shit excuse for an MT. If you were gonna kill yer prince, you would’ve done it a long time ago.”

Ignis learned quickly that things haven’t gone well on Cor’s end. He told them that after the Oracle’s death, the nights grew longer. There were now mere hours of daylight left, and the marshal was certain it wouldn’t be long until they lived in a constant state of darkness.

“Our only hope is for His Highness to return,” Cor said, sounding more tired than ever. “But the prophecy doesn’t say when that will happen.”

“Then I suppose we have no choice but to wait,” Ignis sighed.

* * *

It felt like hours until they were finally dismissed to the house. The trek was miserable for Ignis―the ground was uneven and he stumbled every few steps, even with Prompto’s guidance. It brought back a feeling of helplessness he thought he had left behind.

Ignis was given a room to share with Prompto on the first floor. From the way Prompto described it, it was nothing special―a relatively plain room with little furniture and hardly any decoration. The gunner had almost sounded disappointed about the lack of personality, though Ignis saw no point in decorating a room they would only be using temporarily.

After a warm meal and a hot shower, the two of them were settled into their room. Ignis had expected Prompto to do something to fill the silence in the room―hum that ridiculous chocobo song or fill the room with his endless chatter―but the gunner said nothing.

Prompto’s silence was concerning, but not necessarily surprising. As much as it pained Ignis to admit, this was slowly becoming the new norm.

“Prompto?” Ignis cringed at how loud his voice sounded in the room.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

The question seemed to catch the boy off guard. “I, uh… I…” There was a pause, then a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I’m fine.”

Ignis frowned, turning to face Prompto. “You certainly don’t seem fine.”

Ignis had expected Prompto to insist he was reading too deep, but all he got was a tired sigh. “Is it really that obvious?”

“To be fair,” Ignis said, “you never were a very good liar.”

Prompto let out a humorless laugh. “Guess you’re right.”

The adviser sighed, giving the boy a concerned look. “What happened in Gralea, Prompto? What did Ardyn do to you?”

Prompto fell silent, as though he were contemplating whether or not he should open up. Ignis allowed him to consider it for a moment, but when the silence became too much to bear, he added, “If you aren’t ready to tell me, I won’t force you to do so. I want you to understand that you’re not alone in this. When you _are_ ready to open up, I will be there.”

Ignis heard Prompto’s breath catch in his throat. “I’m sorry, Iggy, but I just… I can’t.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for, Prompto,” Ignis said, his voice gentle.

An awkward silence fell over the two of them. He felt like he should say _something_ , but he wasn’t sure what would be appropriate.

Finally, a thought surfaced in the back of his mind. “Prompto?”

“Hmm?”

“Is your camera still out?”

Prompto paused. “Yeah, it is. Why?”

Ignis gave the boy a kind smile. “It’s been some time since you’ve shared your pictures.”

Prompto let out a surprised sound. It must’ve been the very last thing on his mind, considering everything that’s happened.

“Would you mind telling me about them, Prompto?”

Ignis could hear the smile in Prompto’s voice when he agreed. He sat down on the gunner’s bed, patiently waiting for him to get his camera. The silence was replaced by Prompto’s excited chatter as he searched for a particular SD card.

Prompto sat down next to him, humming that ridiculous chocobo song as he switched SD cards. After a moment, Ignis felt him lean in close. The move was hesitant, as though he expected to be pushed away.

Ignis only smiled and pulled him closer. He felt Prompto tense up, then relax.

Prompto began to describe pictures from the start of their journey, sharing every last detail so Ignis could visualize it. With each picture, there was commentary―“Noct looks so happy in this!” or “At this angle, it looks like Gladdy’s about to grab the sun right out of the sky!” or “You look like a total badass in this one, Iggy!”

The photos brought back memories of a happier time, before the fall of Insomnia. Those were days full of laughter, where their only concern was getting Noctis to Altissa in time for his wedding.

“Ignis, are you okay?”

Prompto’s voice pulled Ignis from his thoughts. He must’ve looked confused, as the gunner elaborated, “You’re crying.”

Sure enough, the cheek beneath his open eye was wet. Ignis gave Prompto a sad smile, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

“Those are happy tears,” Ignis murmured. “If I had known that all this was going to happen, perhaps I wouldn’t have taken the days we had before Altissa for granted.”

Ignis felt Prompto’s hand rubbing soothing circles onto his back. He buried his face into the soft, blond locks, shedding a few more tears before regaining his composure.

To Ignis’ delight, Prompto didn’t leave the embrace. In fact, Ignis felt the gunner’s arms tighten around him. Prompto’s head was pressed against his chest, a weight that comforted the adviser immensely.

It felt nice, holding Prompto like this. Ignis couldn’t remember the last time he felt this comfortable and safe. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Prompto felt the same.

“My apologies,” Ignis murmured into Prompto’s hair. “I didn’t mean to worry you so.”

“It’s all good,” Prompto said. “I’m just glad you’re not, y’know, upset.”

Ignis chuckled, allowing himself to hold Prompto for a moment longer before pulling away. “Shall we continue, then?”

Prompto gave one last squeeze before letting go, picking his camera back up. He picked up where he left off, chatter once again filling the room. As Prompto went through the photos, Ignis felt him rest his head on his shoulder. Without a second thought, the adviser draped an arm over the boy’s shoulder, letting himself get lost in Prompto’s vivid descriptions.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fish that big in my life, Iggy! Six, Noct looked like he was gonna”―Prompto paused to yawn―“shit bricks.”

Ignis smiled fondly. “Perhaps we should stop here for the night.”

“‘S probably getting late, huh?” Prompto paused, presumably to check the time. “Shiva, it’s nearly one in the morning!”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Ignis said. He stood, walking the short distance to his bed. “Thank you, Prompto. Perhaps we could do this again?”

“You betcha,” Prompto said. Ignis could picture the wide grin on his face, pleased to hear genuine cheer in his voice.

Ignis slipped off his glasses, setting them down on the nightstand. He laid down, the past few weeks of little sleep catching up to him.

“G’night, Iggy,” came Prompto’s sleepy voice.

“Goodnight, Prompto.”

* * *

Ignis woke to a sobbing Prompto at his side. He wordlessly sat up, pulling the shaking boy into his arms without a second thought.

“Another nightmare?” Ignis asked.

Prompto let out a whimper in response. He buried his face into the crook of Ignis’ neck, his hands gripping his shirt tightly.

Ignis frowned, carding his fingers through the soft, blond hair. “It’s alright, Prompto. You’re safe. You’re _safe_.”

Ignis could only hold Prompto as he sobbed into his shoulder, his attempts at staying quiet not quite working. He let the boy cry until his sobs turned to hiccups and all the tension left his body, leaving him an exhausted wreck in Ignis’ arms.

“Do you wish to talk about it, Prompto?” Ignis asked.

Prompto opened his mouth, letting out a pitiful little whimper. For a moment, Ignis thought he'd finally open up, but the defeated sigh he heard told him otherwise.

Before Prompto could apologize, Ignis murmured, “You don't need to say anything if it's going to upset you. You don't _ever_ have to tell me, if that's what you choose. Just know that I won’t think any less of you.”

Ignis felt Prompto's grip on his shirt loosen. The boy’s tears stopped at last, much to his relief. Silence settled over them, and for a moment, Ignis thought Prompto had fallen asleep.

“Ignis?”

“Yes, Prompto?”

“Can I stay with you?”

“Of course,” Ignis murmured. He shifted over, making room for Prompto as he slipped beneath the covers. Once they were settled, he draped an arm over the gunner, feeling the remaining tension melt away.

* * *

Convincing Iris to make one of Prompto’s favorite dishes had been the easy part. They had all of the ingredients necessary, a kitchen at their disposal, and a very eager eight-year-old to help. Iris had even agreed that a hot meal would be good for all of them, and making Prompto’s favorite might just perk him up a bit. The only obstacle was the fact that Iris had never made spicy long-bone rib steak.

Convincing Iris to allow Ignis to help was much more difficult. He had presented it as a learning opportunity, offering to teach her how to make the rib steak, but Iris had been quite hesitant to accept. She pointed out that Ignis’ notebook had plenty of notes, ensuring that even an amatuer could learn to cook even his most complex creation.

Iris finally relented when Ignis pointed out that he’d never get back to cooking if he didn’t start as soon as possible. However, she had her terms―Ignis probably would’ve felt more insulted that she wouldn’t allow him near the stove or permit him to use knives if he wasn’t as rational. He agreed to the terms, promising to be careful.

After an hour and a half of work, the rib steaks were ready to serve. Ignis sent Talcott out to gather everyone for dinner, waiting until the boy was gone before turning to Iris and asking, “Did they come out alright?”

“Well, they’re not burnt,” Iris said. “We won’t really know until somebody tries it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Ignis sighed.

Ignis was very aware of how insecure he sounded, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. Though he had considered cooking for Noctis a chore, given his pickiness, it was something he took a great deal of pride in. It was something he had to relearn, a skill he had to develop once more.

Luckily, Ignis quite enjoyed taking on challenging tasks.

“Something smells good!”

Ignis chuckled, turning towards Prompto’s voice. He had expected him to be the first one in, considering that he had been in the room below, discussing something private with Cor.

“I didn’t expect you to start cooking again so soon,” Cor said, walking towards the stove.

“Iris did a great deal of the work,” Ignis admitted. “I merely offered my advice and some assistance here and there. It will be quite some time until I’m able to do everything myself.”

While they waited for the others to join them, Iris and Prompto set the table, singing a catchy pop tune as obnoxiously as they could. Ordinarily, Ignis would’ve scolded them, but he didn’t seem to have it in him today. In fact, he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The last time they had a meal like this, with all their friends crammed into this tiny house, was the night before they left for Altissa. It felt like decades ago, but it had only been a matter of weeks.

Time really was a funny little thing.

Finally, they settled down to eat. Ignis bit into the rib steak, noting that it was only a little burnt. The taste was off—perhaps they added too much Lieden pepper? The texture wasn't quite right, either.

Overall, it wasn't _bad_ —it most certainly wasn't up to Ignis’ standards, but even he’d admit they were a tad high. It’d take practice to get it right, and luckily for Ignis, he had a seemingly endless amount of time to do so.

* * *

“―and there’s Big Mama! Shiva, she had to have been the sweetest chocobo around!”

Ignis chuckled, listening to Prompto gush about the chocobo post. How the boy managed to remember the names of each chocobo was beyond him―Astrals, he could even tell the difference between each one! Sure, Ignis had a keen eye for detail, but it apparently wasn’t keen enough to tell the difference between Big Mama and Cinnamon.

“Prompto, was that your first time seeing a chocobo?” Ignis asked. The way the gunner spoke about the birds, it almost sounded like he thought they were mythical creatures.

“In person, yeah,” Prompto said. “This trip… it was my first time outside of Insomnia. Er, the first time I could _remember_ , anyway.”

“I assumed so,” Ignis admitted. “It was certainly quite amusing, seeing you with all the chocobos. They _flocked_ right to you.”

Prompto let out a snort. “C’mon, Iggy, you can do better than that!”

“You laughed, didn’t you?”

“ _Flock_ off, Ignis.”

The two of them erupted into a fit of giggles. Ignis was certain they were the only two in the house who were awake, and had the circumstances been different, he probably would’ve insisted they be quiet. But it had been so long since either of them laughed like this―even before they made it to Altissa, before the fall of Insomnia, Ignis was certain it had been _years_ since the two of them laughed this hard and this long.

It felt _good_. It felt _normal_. Almost.

After the two of them caught their breath, Prompto continued where he left off, gushing about the baby chocobos for a good twenty minutes.

Prompto stopped suddenly, letting out a confused sound. Ignis raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh, no, not at all! I just don't remember seeing this picture.”

“Surely you’d remember the pictures you've taken—”

“That's the thing, though! I thought that picture of Gladio with Muffin was the last one on this SD card! I didn't take this one…”

Ignis paused for a moment, something clicking in the back of his mind. “What's in the picture, Prompto?”

“It’s one of me,” Prompto said sheepishly. “I'm in the stable, sleeping with Nutmeg and her chicks.”

Ignis gave Prompto a knowing smile. “Do you remember the night we defeated Deadeye?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“When we had finished the hunt, it was quite late. The post had to close for the evening, and you had been quite disappointed. Wiz had been grateful for the help, though, and he allowed you to have free reign of the chocobo stables.”

“I remember! Six, I was so happy I could've cried!”

Ignis chuckled. “You _did_ , actually, but that's besides the point. That night, after dinner, you left to take a walk. You didn't return after an hour, so we went looking for you and we found you in the stable, sleeping like the dead.” Ignis smiled at the memory, wishing he could see the photograph. “Believe it or not, it had been Gladio’s idea to take the picture. He thought you'd like it.”

Prompto let out a fond laugh. “I do. Brings back some good memories, y’know?”

Ignis hummed in agreement. After a moment, he said, “Perhaps it’s time we turn in for the night.”

Ignis started to get up, but a hand on his wrist stopped him. He turned back towards Prompto, raising an eyebrow.

“Could you… er, would you―? _Six,_ this is so embarrassing…”

“Prompto, are you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” Prompto mumbled, “I just… could you stay? You, uh, keep the nightmares away.”

Ignis gave the boy a comforting smile. “Of course.”

* * *

It wasn’t hard to be up before the sun without the Oracle’s magic fighting back the starscourge. From the way Prompto described it, seven in the morning looked more like midnight. The sun rose later and set earlier each passing day, promising an eternity of darkness. It brought up a question that none of them had considered beforehand: what would they do when the sun was no longer there?

The answer came at breakfast. It was nearly ten in the morning, but the sun was just now peaking up over the horizon. They sat down to eat, though most of their attention was on Cor.

“A few days ago, I managed to get in contact with a few of the surviving researchers,” he said. “Working with what they had, they were able to give us a rough estimate of how much daylight we have left.”

“Well, spit it out, son! Some of us ain’t got much longer,” Cid barked.

“We have about a week, at best,” Cor said. “After that, we’ll be stuck in endless darkness. I’m willing to bet we’ll lose power over here, too, and without any form of light, we’ll be sitting ducks. The only logical place to go is Lestallum―”

“Hold yer horses, now,” Cid cut in. “I ain’t leavin’ Hammerhead.”

“Cid, you won’t be safe―”

“I ain’t leavin’ Hammerhead,” Cid repeated. “I ain’t leavin’ that garage, and I sure as shit ain’t gonna make Cindy go if she ain’t willing. The two of us have put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into getting Hammerhead the way it is today, and we ain’t gonna let daemons take it away from us without a fight.”

Cor let out a huff. “Cid, there won’t be a need for your garage if everyone’s in Lestallum.”

“Maybe not… but there’s always gonna be a need for a mechanic.” He pointed to Prompto. “You got one right there, and even more in Lestallum. There needs to be someone out there for the people who ain’t got the money to live in the city―might as well be me.”

Cor was silent for a moment. “Just don’t get yourself killed, old man.”

“This geezer still has plenty of fight left in him and you know it,” Cid said.

Cid left after breakfast, leaving them to focus on their next move. They had agreed to move to Lestallum the next day, before every last available apartment had been taken. Living arrangements were worked out within a matter of minutes, and after breakfast, everyone went back to their rooms to start packing.

* * *

After all their things were packed and loaded into Cor’s truck, Ignis and Prompto settled down on Ignis’ bed. Prompto’s camera was out, going through the photos from their time in Altissa.

Initially, Prompto had been excited―he spent a great deal of time gushing about the posters that advertised the Moogle Chocobo Carnival that they didn’t get the chance to attend. Ignis had to remind him to _breathe_ when gushing turned to ranting.

Then there was a series of photos dedicated to the architecture. Prompto went off on a tangent, mentioning that if the Crownsguard didn’t work out and he didn’t end up being a successful photographer, he would’ve been an architect.

When Prompto finally got back on track, though, he became less and less enthusiastic. The descriptions were less detailed and became rushed, as though he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Prompto,” Ignis said, “something’s bothering you.”

Prompto was silent for a moment before letting out a tired sigh. “I just… can I stop, Iggy?”

Ignis frowned. “I certainly won’t force you to continue if you aren’t up for it, though I must admit I’m quite concerned.”

“Altissia is kind of a sore spot for everyone, y’know? I mean, that’s where everything fell apart,” Prompto said, his voice quiet.

Altissa _was_ a sore spot for everyone, that much was true. Ignis lost his sight, Noctis lost one of his dearest friends, and the bond they all shared took a beating in the aftermath. Ignis’ attempt to mend it had worked well enough, but it was clear that nothing would ever be the same.

Ignis sighed. “I’m fully aware of the memories Altissa brings me. There are terrible memories that I’d much rather forget, and I’m sure if I were given the option, I’d take it. However, I’ve made plenty of good memories, too―that would certainly mean I must give those up as well. I’ll take the bad with the good every time.”

Prompto remained silent, radiating uncertainty. Ignis gave him a gentle smile, resting a hand on Prompto's knee. “I won't make you continue if you don't feel comfortable doing so, but I assure you that your photographs bring me nothing but happy memories.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Prompto picked up where he left off, the enthusiasm back in his voice. Ignis allowed himself to get lost in the gunslinger’s vivid descriptions, feeling a smile bloom on his face as he relived the happy memories he treasured.

Ignis was vaguely aware of Prompto's head resting on his shoulder. He could hear Prompto's voice slowly growing distant, and by the time he heard the boy yawn, Ignis was well on his way to sleep.

* * *

The trip from Cape Caem to Lestallum was made in the early hours before the sun rose. Had it been up to Ignis, they would’ve waited until the sun was starting to rise, but Cor insisted on leaving as early as possible.

“We’ll be lucky if we get a place to stay even at this hour,” Cor told them. “As long as we stay on our toes and avoid any unnecessary combat, we should be fine.”

To Cor’s credit, they only had to fend off daemons twice. Or, rather, Ignis had to _listen_ to Cor, Gladio, Prompto, and Iris fend off daemons while he and Talcott remained in the safety of the truck. Though he knew the four of them could dispatch the daemons, Ignis still had a dagger at the ready, even as he comforted the terrified child.

They made it to Lestallum in one piece, greeted by the sun. By the time Ignis and Prompto set foot in their new home, the sun was starting to set.

The two of them spent the rest of the daylight hours unpacking their belongings, stopping in the middle to eat something from the Crow’s Nest across the street. Afterwards, they moved on to the kitchen, unpacking Ignis’ various utensils and storing them in a place he could easily access.

“Hey, uh, Ignis?”

“Yes, Prompto?”

“I know I’m not really the best person to help with this, because, y’know, I can’t cook to save my godsdamned life,” Prompto said, “but maybe I can help you relearn?”

Ignis turned towards Prompto, giving him a smile. “I’d like that a great deal, Prompto. Perhaps you’ll even learn a thing or two.”

Prompto let out a bright, bubbly laugh. “Lookin’ forward to it, Iggy.”

* * *

Six months came and went much faster than Ignis expected. Then again, his sense of time disappeared with his eyesight.

In that time, Ignis and Prompto fell into a routine. While Prompto went on hunts with Cor and Gladio, Ignis did what he could to help the refugees that appeared in Lestallum. When neither of them had anything to do, Prompto helped Ignis relearn his cooking skills. By now, he knew his way around the kitchen better than the gunner did and could make simple dishes without any assistance.

Ignis was growing more independent, too―he could now walk through the apartment without bumping into anything and he stopped using his cane in familiar places. Stairs weren’t as difficult as they had been, but he still had to take his time. Navigating Lestallum by himself was a challenge, but in time, he’d overcome that obstacle.

In addition to rebuilding his independence, Ignis found himself growing closer to Prompto. Their chats at dinnertime led to a deeper understanding and left the adviser wondering why they hadn’t done this sooner.

“―so here we are, surrounded by imps,” Prompto said, handing Ignis the garlic. “For whatever reason, these little bastards are moving a lot faster than usual, so Gladio and I were slipping and sliding around in the mud for, like, half the battle. Gladio’s getting pretty pissed about it, too, so y’know what he does?”

Ignis chuckled, feeling like he already knew the answer. Still, he humored the gunner. “What happened, Prompto?”

“Well,” Prompto said, fighting back laughter, “Gladdy lunges at the biggest imp. He lands the hit and splits it in half”―he went into a fit of giggles―“and he ripped his pants! Who knew Gladio wore moogle-print boxers?”

Ignis snorted. “If he had _listened_ to me when I said he needed new pants, _maybe_ we wouldn’t have found out.”

“You’re totally gonna hold that over his head, aren’t you?”

“You know me too well, Prompto.”

Now that he was starting to adjust to life in the dark, Ignis seldom missed his sight. It was moments like these, however, where he wished he could see. He could picture Prompto’s bright smile in his mind―a wide grin that revealed teeth that were just a little crooked―but it would never compare to seeing the real thing.

After eating dinner and cleaning up the mess, the two of them went to their room. Prompto searched through the top drawer of the nightstand for a particular SD card, much to Ignis’ confusion.

“Did you not take your camera today, Prompto?” Ignis asked.

“I did, but the pictures I took aren’t that great,” Prompto said. “Too blurry, y’know?”

Ignis hummed in understanding, hearing the soft _click_ of the SD card being slid into place. He felt Prompto settle down beside him, his head resting on his shoulder.

In spite of not having any pictures from today’s hunt, Ignis was shown new pictures―these were from Gralea, after Noctis had pushed Prompto off the train.

During the past six months, Prompto never spoke of his time in Gralea. He danced around the subject whenever it was brought up, and Ignis never pushed him, not wanting to jeopardize the relationship he had with gunner.

Prompto was skipping photographs, choosing to stick to the ones that brought back positive memories. In spite of his curiosity, Ignis didn’t ask any questions―the gunner was already out of his comfort zone and he wasn’t going to do anything that would make him feel even more uncomfortable.

Aranea had told Ignis most of what happened, but Prompto had filled in a few of the missing pieces. However, there remained one important question.

“What happened in Gralea, Prompto?”

Ignis felt Prompto tense up. He opened his mouth to tell him that it was okay if he didn’t want to discuss it, but Prompto cut him off.

“It’s okay,” Prompto said, “really. I want to talk about it.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah… I just don’t know where to begin, y’know?”

Ignis nodded in understanding, draping an arm over Prompto’s shoulders and gently pulling him closer. He felt some of the tension leave the gunner.

Finally, after several minutes of silence, Prompto let out a sigh. “I was ambushed by a fleet of Magitek troopers on my way to Gralea. I don’t remember too much of the actual battle, but I do remember that they just _kept coming_. I tried to find an opening so I could get the hell out, but they were _relentless._ Then Ardyn showed up and called the MTs off. I ran for it, tried to get as far away from him as I could, then… nothing. Next thing I know, I’m in Zegnautus Keep, strapped to that… that _thing_.”

Ignis felt Prompto shiver. Without a second thought, he pulled the gunner closer, letting him take all the time he needed to get his thoughts together.

“When I woke up,” Prompto continued, “Ardyn was there. He told me about all the ideas he had―he talked about injecting me with daemon blood and sending me off to intercept you guys on your way to the crystal, or waiting until you got there to do it so you could watch the transformation. He even brought up the idea of killing me in front of Noct, just like he did with Lady Lunafreya.”

The threat of death had hung over Prompto like the blade of a guillotine, yet he refused to allow Ardyn to see the fear he surely must have felt. As much as Ignis hated to admit, though, Ardyn was a clever man. All he had to do was find a loose thread and give it a good tug to get his prey to unravel. Prompto hid those threads well with that brilliant, beautiful smile, but he didn’t hide them well enough.

“Bastard lost his cool when I wouldn’t respond,” Prompto said. “He beat me pretty bad, and I refused to say anything. I didn’t want him to get any reaction out of me, and it drove him mad. Then he just… left. He gave me a potion, said he needed me alive, and promised to return.”

Prompto tried to continue, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Ignis rubbed circles into his back, murmuring, “It’s okay. Take your time.”

Prompto was silent for several minutes. Ignis was prepared to drop the subject and tell the gunner that he didn’t have to tell him everything tonight, only for him to spit it out.

“I woke up and saw Noct standing there. I was so _relieved_ , Ignis! He was there and I thought he was going to tell me he didn’t mean what he said on the train, that he didn’t mean to push me off, but… he didn’t. I wasn’t his friend… I was a ‘worthless machine’ and a ‘traitor to the Lucian kingdom.’ I knew it was _Ardyn_ , but at the time, feeling Noct’s sword against my throat… I couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t an illusion.”

_“Tell me. Were you worried about me?”_

At the time, Ignis had thought the question was odd―from the way Noctis had explained the situation, he had immediately tried to reach out for Prompto and try to undo the mistake he made. Hearing this, though… it made his behavior make sense.

As Prompto went on, Ignis felt more and more disgusted. Ardyn, disguised as Noctis, had released Prompto from his restraints. He had pinned him to the ground when he tried to escape, impaling the poor boy through the shoulder and spitting vile insults all the while.

“I thought I was going to die,” Prompto said, “Deep down, I knew it wasn’t really Noct, but the only thought that crossed my mind was that I was going to die at the hand of my best friend. But he didn’t kill me… he forced me up, dragged me out of the cell I was being kept in, and took me to solitary confinement.”

Ignis felt Prompto tremble violently. “I don’t know how Ardyn knew about that. I guess he didn’t think I was afraid of tight spaces… he probably thought it was the closest thing to an empty holding tank they had, but the walls felt like they were closing in. It felt like I had been there for _days_ , then Ardyn finally showed up and pulled me out of there.”

Prompto let out a laugh, but there was no humor behind it. “Bastard played innocent—gave me a potion and said it was a shame that my best friend betrayed me a second time. I almost wish he would’ve killed me so he couldn’t do it again and again.

“I wasn’t convinced when he showed up as Gladio. I knew by the way he moved and the way he spoke that it couldn’t possibly be the _real_ Gladio,” Prompto said. “I didn’t want to let him have the satisfaction of making me think another friend hated me for what I really am, so I refused to call him Gladio. Guess he didn’t like that I didn’t play along, ‘cause next thing I knew, Ardyn was using a phoenix down on me.”

It took every last ounce of Ignis’ self-control to remain silent. He clenched his fist tightly, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. He willed himself to remain calm, deciding that coming up with ways to avenge Prompto could wait.

Prompto was silent for several minutes, as though he was considering the pros and cons of continuing. Ignis said nothing, opting to give him a comforting squeeze.

“I think the one that hurt the most was when he wore your face, Ignis,” Prompto said. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Funnily enough, he didn’t lay a finger on me. Hell, he didn’t even bother to act like you.”

Prompto became less and less composed as he went on. By now, everything that Ardyn had told the gunner was coming out in a constant stream, almost too quickly for Ignis to follow.

“All of it hurt,” Prompto said, “but of all the things he could’ve said… I don’t even know how he found out about that―”

“Prompto,” Ignis murmured, “What did he say?”

Prompto tensed up. Ignis immediately pulled away from him, giving him some space. “My apologies, Prompto. It was not my intention to upset you. You need not tell me if you aren’t comfortable doing so.”

Ignis felt some of the tension leave Prompto. He waited a moment to see if he was going to continue, but the gunner said nothing.

Ignis was prepared to change the subject, but before he could get the words out, Prompto mumbled something.

“Prompto?”

Ignis heard Prompto take a deep breath. Before he could pry any further, Prompto said, “He said you’d never love someone like me.”

The words came out so quickly, it took Ignis’ mind a moment to catch up with what Prompto said. An uncomfortable silence fell over the two of them, and for several minutes, neither of them made any move to break it.

Finally, Prompto mumbled, “Do you want me to leave?”

Ignis frowned. “Why would I want you to leave, Prompto?”

The gunner let out a humorless laugh, sounding close to tears. “I kinda just told you I liked you, I guess?”

“Prompto―”

“Ifrit’s taint, why did I tell you? Everything was _fine_ and I just fucking ruined―”

“Prompto,” Ignis said, his voice gentle, “please calm down.”

Prompto complied, though Ignis could feel his anxiousness. With a soft sigh, he pulled him into his arms, waiting until he relaxed to continue.

“I believe this is a conversation we should have tomorrow, after you’ve had the chance to rest,” Ignis said. “But I want you to understand two things―the next time we cross paths with Ardyn, I’ll be sure to make him suffer as you did.”

“And the other thing?”

After only a moment’s hesitation, Ignis pressed a soft kiss to Prompto’s forehead. “Everything Ardyn told you is a lie, and I do mean _everything_.”

“Ignis―”

“I think it would be best to save this conversation for tomorrow,” Ignis said, holding Prompto a little tighter. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said, relaxing against Ignis’ body.

Ignis took the camera out of Prompto’s hands and set it on the nightstand. After doing the same with his glasses, he laid back on the bed, pulling Prompto down with him.

* * *

Ignis had planned on speaking to Prompto after breakfast, but Cor had showed up to ask for the gunner’s assistance with a hunt. Unable to refuse a request from The Immortal, Prompto agreed to it.

At least, that’s how he presented it. For all Ignis knew, Prompto could’ve been quite anxious about this discussion, though he didn’t blame him. Ignis, feeling underprepared for the situation, decided that he could use the time to get his thoughts together.

Or he would have, had Gladio not come up to his apartment less than ten minutes after Cor and Prompto left.

“Good to see you, Iggy,” Gladio said.

“And it’s good to hear your voice, Gladio,” Ignis replied, “though it’s unlike you to come over unannounced. Is something troubling you?”

“An imp thought it’d be cute to crush my phone. I was gonna see if cupcake could salvage it.” Ignis felt Gladio pull him into a side hug. “And it’s been awhile since the three of us hung out. Thought we could catch up over lunch.”

“You just missed Prompto, unfortunately,” Ignis said. “Cor required his assistance with a hunt, and I’m certain he won’t return until much later.”

“Damn. Looks like I’ll need to try someone else,” Gladio said. “But I am serious about lunch. You up for it?”

“I have a few errands that must be run first,” Ignis said, “but I certainly wouldn’t mind the company, if you have nothing else to do.”

Gladio didn’t seem to mind helping Ignis with his errands, to his relief. Though he loathed admitting it, there were a handful of things he’d _never_ be able to do on his own. Shopping had been something he wasn’t very fond of even when he had his eyesight, and his feelings for it didn’t improve when it lost it.

On the bright side, though, he did get a chance to catch up with Gladio. He didn’t get to speak to him in person as much as Prompto did, seeing how he rarely left Lestallum.

Predictably, Gladio had spent most of the past six months hunting daemons and training Iris. He spoke highly of his sister’s growth, only pausing to take a breath here and there.

In turn, Ignis spoke of his activities since they arrived in Lestallum. Gladio already knew about Ignis’ involvement in helping with the refugees, and their phone conversations often turned to his efforts to reacquaint himself with the kitchen.

They returned to Ignis’ apartment to put away the groceries, silence fell over them. At first, it was comfortable―it felt familiar, bringing back memories of training sessions where they’d speak few words, yet understand exactly what they were thinking.

It became clear to Ignis that Gladio had something to say when they were halfway finished putting away the groceries. While he couldn’t see his expression, he could hear faint sounds of hesitation, as though he was going to say something, but decided he should word it differently.

Finally, when they were finished putting everything away, Gladio asked, “How’s Prompto doing?”

Ignis let out a soft sigh. “Prompto’s improving, little by little. Some nights are… difficult, but he’s trying.”

Gladio remained silent, as though he were trying to come up with an appropriate response. After several minutes, though, the silence got to the adviser.

“Last night,” Ignis said, his voice quiet, “Prompto told me what happened in Gralea.”

“Everything?” Gladio asked.

Ignis nodded. After a moment of hesitation, he told Gladio everything Prompto told him. He didn’t bother to hide his anger, and by the time he was finished, he was plotting ways to make Ardyn suffer.

Ignis felt Gladio’s hand on his shoulder. The touch, though comforting, did very little to quell the anger.

“It’s a damn shame that creep’s an immortal,” Gladio growled.

“There are fates worse than death,” Ignis said.

Gladio let out a humorless laugh, but said nothing else in response. After a moment, he spoke up, changing the subject. “I dunno about you, Iggy, but I’m getting hungry. Lunch is on me.”

Normally, Ignis would’ve insisted on making lunch, eager to use this time to hone his skills. He made an exception this time, though, deciding that he had too much on his mind to focus on cooking.

Gladio ended up taking him to a Tenebraen restaurant that had recently opened up on the edge of town. Ignis made the assumption that it had been beautifully decorated, as many of the patrons marveled at the atmosphere of the restaurant. The scent of sylleblossoms mingled with the aroma of the food, and for a moment, Ignis was convinced that the world wasn’t in complete chaos.

In the back of his mind, Ignis thought this place would be lovely for a date.

“You alright, Iggy?”

“Yes,” Ignis said, barely managing to hide his embarrassment. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to zone out.”

“There’s something else on your mind,” Gladio said. He left no room for denial, much to Ignis’ frustration.

“Last night,” Ignis said, “after Prompto told me about Gralea, he confessed his feelings for me.”

“Oh.” For some reason or another, Gladio didn’t sound surprised.

“Did you know?”

“I’ve known for a while,” Gladio said. Then after a moment, he asked, “What did you tell him?”

Ignis let out a sigh. “I asked if we could talk about it today.”

“But you didn’t get the chance because Cor took him on a hunt.”

Ignis nodded, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I have had plenty of time to get my thoughts together, yet I still don’t know what to say.”

“Well, let’s start with this,” Gladio said. “Do _you_ have feelings for him?”

As always, Gladio got straight to the point―it was something Ignis both admired and despised about his oldest friend. He also didn’t push for an answer right away. He was going to force Ignis to think about his emotions, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t resent him a little for it.

Before the covenant with Leviathan, Ignis didn’t quite allow himself to get too close to Prompto. His priority was Noctis, and though Prompto was kind and pleasant and was always willing to lend a hand at dinnertime, he didn’t think either of them had enough in common to become too close.

Prompto had been there when he woke up after the covenant. Prompto had calmed him when he panicked because all he saw was darkness. Prompto had devoted himself to helping him when Noctis and Gladio were too busy arguing to think about him. He certainly could’ve stopped anytime he wanted to, but he didn’t. Even injured and traumatized, he had insisted on helping Ignis navigate Zegnautus Keep.

Prompto had been so _kind_ to him, far kinder than what Ignis probably deserved. It was at the top of the long list of all of the gunslinger’s most admirable traits―his warmth, his determination, his optimism, _Astrals, he could go on forever_ ―

“I do,” Ignis said, his voice quiet. “I love him, Gladio.”

* * *

_You’ve put this off long enough. It’s now or never._

Ignis must’ve practiced this conversation in his head twenty times after Gladio left, yet he still felt underprepared. Even with the shield’s sound advice, he still found himself struggling to find just the right words.

He knew he was overthinking. He was aware that he wasn’t coming up with a plan of attack, nor was he trying to negotiate a peace treaty. This was a talk about his relationship with Prompto and the possibility of it becoming something more, yet he felt as though the world would end if he didn’t say the right thing.

Ignis was pulled out of his thoughts by a familiar weight settling on the bed. He turned towards it, finding himself smiling in spite of the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I guess we can’t put this off any longer, huh?” Prompto asked, his voice quiet.

“We could,” Ignis said, “though I’m certain that if we _did_ , we may never talk about this.”

“I guess you’re right,” Prompto said.

A long, awkward silence fell over them. Ignis tried to speak three times, only to decide that the wording felt too harsh, or that he felt his words were too flippant, or that it didn’t quite convey what he wanted to say.

Finally, Prompto said, “Last night, when you told me that everything Ardyn said was a lie… did you mean it? I mean, were you including―”

“Yes,” Ignis said. “ _Everything_.”

“So you… you really like me back?”

Ignis’ heart clenched when he heard Prompto’s voice crack. He could picture the gunner’s eyes, wide with hope and tears threatening to fall.

“I do,” Ignis said, his voice quiet. “I’ve loved you for quite some time.”

Prompto fell silent. For several long minutes, the silence persisted, and as it went on, the anxiety in Ignis’ stomach grew. Perhaps _love_ was too strong of a word? Or should he have said more? Or did he―

Ignis’ thoughts were interrupted by Prompto’s lips crashing against his. The kiss was awkward and clumsy, and it took Ignis way longer than it should have to kiss back. For a moment, he feared he may have given Prompto the wrong impression.

When they broke the kiss, Ignis found himself at a loss for words. Prompto, on the other hand…

“That was terrible,” Prompto snorted. That was all he was able to get out before he went into a fit of giggles.

Ignis couldn’t keep the smile off his face. It took several minutes for their laughter to die down, and even longer for them to speak without erupting into another fit of laughter.

“ _Shit_ , uh,” Prompto said, “that was supposed to be more romantic, y’know?”

Ignis felt Prompto’s fingers brush against his. He gently took hold of Prompto’s hand, running his thumb along his knuckles.

“I want to make this clear to you, Prompto,” Ignis murmured, “I don’t want to pressure you into a relationship. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I made you do something you didn’t want to do.”

“I want to try,” Prompto said, sounding sure.

This kiss was considerably better than the last one―it wasn’t rushed, their noses weren’t awkwardly pressed together, and Ignis didn’t freeze up. He threaded his fingers through Prompto’s hair, marveling at how _soft_ it felt without the ridiculous amount of product he used to style it on a daily basis.

Ignis broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Prompto’s. “Better?”

“It was perfect,” Prompto murmured.

Ignis chuckled, pulling Prompto into his arms. “It was certainly the best second kiss I’ve ever had.”

Ignis felt Prompto bury his face into the crook of his neck, letting out a soft, sleepy sigh. He took a moment to enjoy the feel of Prompto’s soft breath against his neck, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“Perhaps we should call it a night,” Ignis murmured.

Prompto let out a soft sound of agreement, but he didn’t make any attempt to leave the embrace. Ignis chuckled fondly, leaning back and pulling Prompto down with him.

“Goodnight, Prompto,” Ignis murmured, burying his nose into the soft, blond locks.

“G’night, Ignis.”

* * *

In spite of being awake for twenty minutes, Ignis couldn’t bring himself to leave the bed. Not when Prompto was clinging to him so fiercely.

Ignis had learned that Prompto was a cuddler when they started sharing a bed. He didn’t mind it all that much―if it brought some form of comfort to him, he saw no harm in it. On the plus side, it was never too difficult to worm his way out of his grasp in the morning, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel nice.

This morning, however, Ignis wasn’t able to get away. Normally, he would’ve felt irritated that he couldn’t proceed with his routine, but he didn’t seem to have it in him to be angry today. Just this once, it wouldn’t hurt to take things slow.

In the back of his mind, Ignis decided he wouldn’t mind if this became a regular occurrence.

Prompto stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy sound. Ignis smiled, pressing his lips to his forehead. “Good morning, love.”

Prompto let out a soft squeak, hiding his face into Ignis’ shirt. He mumbled something against his chest, but Ignis couldn’t quite make it out.

“Pardon?”

“I’m surprised you’re still in bed.”

Ignis chuckled. “I was trapped.”

After a moment, Prompto quickly disentangling himself from Ignis. “Shit, sorry!”

“It’s quite alright, Prompto,” Ignis said. “It felt nice, actually.”

“Oh,” Prompto squeaked.

Ignis smiled, feeling for Prompto’s hand. When he found it, he laced their fingers together, squeezing gently. “I’m going to start on breakfast. Would you like to lend me a hand?”

Ignis felt Prompto’s lips against his cheek, just below his scar. “You don’t even have to ask.”

* * *

Since becoming Noctis’ adviser, Ignis could recall only five instances where he was given the day off. Three of them, he supposed, didn’t count―he would’ve gladly worked, but His Majesty _ordered_ him to go home when he found out he had a fever so high it would’ve made the Infernian uncomfortable. The other two were spent with his mother when she visited him in Lucis back when he was much younger.

If he was being honest, though, he didn’t much like spending time with his mother. Her visits caused him more stress than anything that Noctis could ever do, and she had always been so difficult to please, even until the day she passed on. Ignis could’ve told her he slayed Ifrit with one hand tied behind his back and she still would’ve acted as though he only killed a mouse.

After seven months since the darkness swallowed the sun, the number of refugees coming into Lestallum was slowing down. This left Ignis with a new project―helping Cor do research on the prophecy and the royal tombs.

Originally, Ignis was supposed to go with Cor to one of the royal tombs to conduct research, but the marshal had been forced to cancel at the last minute. That ended up clearing Ignis’ schedule, and there wasn’t much he could do to fill it.

Prompto, coincidentally, had nothing to do, either―having spent the past two days hunting down three particularly stubborn Deathclaws with Aranea, he had outright refused the request to come along on any hunts simply because he was _exhausted_. That hadn’t stopped him from suggesting a night out, and though it was a wonderful idea, Ignis found himself favoring a quiet night in.

It was every bit as lovely as Ignis had hoped it would be. The two of them made dinner, a dish Ignis hadn’t attempted to make since he lost his sight. Though it certainly wasn’t up to his (incredibly high) standards, Prompto had insisted that it was “so godsdamned good.”

After dinner, they began the process of cleaning up. As soon as the table was cleared, they stood at the sink, where Ignis carefully washed the dishes and Prompto dried them off.

“So, um,” Prompto began, his voice quiet, “Dave called me earlier today.”

“About a hunt?” Ignis asked.

“No, actually. Remember how Cid said he was gonna do something with the garage?” Ignis nodded. “Well, he and Dave got together and thought it’d be a good idea to make it headquarters for the hunters. They need help getting it set up, though.”

“So they asked you to assist,” Ignis said.

“Yeah.”

A part of Ignis wanted to ask Prompto to stay. He knew that this was fairly low-risk, especially if all he was going to do was convert the garage into a stronghold for the hunters to operate out of. Prompto would most certainly be safe there, amongst a group of hunters.

However, Ignis’ mind kept turning to Gralea. He didn’t want Prompto to ever have to face such danger alone again.

 _He won’t be alone_ , his rational side told him.

 _But I won’t be able to protect him_.

“Ignis, are you alright?”

Ignis pushed those thoughts away. “Yes. My apologies, Prompto.”

Silence fell upon them, only broken by the soft clattering of the dishes in the sink. After a moment, Ignis felt Prompto wrap his arms around him tightly, his nose pressed against his shoulder.

“Gladio’s going with me,” Prompto murmured.

Ignis let out a soft sigh, returning the embrace. Though he wasn’t quite able to shake away the anxiety, it did feel reassuring to know Gladio would be there.

“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” Ignis asked, his voice quiet.

“No,” Prompto sighed. Ignis felt the gunner tighten his hold on him. “I almost turned him down, but…”

“They need the help,” Ignis supplied, “and you’re not one to walk away from a friend in need.” He buried his nose into Prompto’s hair.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the dishes forgotten in favor of just holding each other. Ignis could’ve stayed like this forever, his arms tightly wrapped around Prompto.

Finally, Prompto spoke. “I don’t leave for another week. They gotta, y’know, get the supplies. Can’t build a stronghold without the right equipment.”

Ignis let out a soft laugh. “I suppose not.” He kissed the top of Prompto’s head, smiling when he let out a sigh of content. He pulled away, turning back to the dishes. “Let’s finish up here, shall we?”

* * *

To Ignis’ great displeasure, the week went by quickly. On top of that, Cor had dropped off several documents containing information about the Starscourge, which ended up taking most of his free time.

Granted, he wasn’t alone―Prompto immediately offered his assistance with the research, making the most of their situation. Had he not offered, Ignis would’ve likely not spent much time with Prompto, which would’ve lead to him feeling even _worse_ when the gunner had to depart for Hammerhead.

Prompto, as it turned out, was _very_ good at translating Gralean.  As they worked, Prompto rewrote the documents in Lucian for Cor’s records, making notes in the margins with Ignis’ thoughts.

Between research sessions, Ignis and Prompto spent as much time together as they possibly could. Ignis held Prompto tightly, covering him in as many kisses as he could before they had to get back to work or go to sleep.

When the day finally arrived, Ignis wished he had spent the day doing something other than research.

“I promise I’ll call every night,” Prompto said, his voice muffled by Ignis’ shoulder. “And I’ll take lots of pictures, too, show ‘em to you when I get home.”

“I look forward to it, darling,” Ignis said, squeezing Prompto gently. “Do be careful, though―I’d hate for Gladio to call me and tell me you were run through by a Yojimbo for a photo.”

“I’ll be careful. Promise.” Prompto pulled away, his hand cupping Ignis’ face.

When their lips met, it took all of Ignis’ self-control to not get carried away. He kissed like his life depended on it, and though he would’ve loved to stretch this moment out, he knew Prompto had to go.

They broke the kiss, and after Ignis gave him one last squeeze, Prompto left.

* * *

It was difficult for Ignis to adjust to Prompto’s absence. The first three days, he made enough breakfast for two people. He often found himself searching for his hand or reaching out to touch his shoulder, only to come into contact with a piece of furniture.

Thankfully, his research kept him occupied. He and Cor spent hours sitting at his kitchen table, documents spread before them and Ignis offering his thoughts. They lead to a number of hypotheses, which would eventually be looked into by Cor.

When he wasn’t working, Ignis’ thoughts would turn to how _quiet_ the apartment was without Prompto’s constant humming, or how _cold_ the bed felt without Prompto’s warm weight at his side, or how dull his life was without Prompto’s light-hearted chatter.

Prompto’s phone calls were a bright spot in the day. It wasn’t the same as speaking with him in person, but it was reassuring to hear his voice. There’d always be an underlying exhaustion to his cheery tone―the good kind, earned after a day of hard work.

 _“I think ‘Nea has a crush on Cindy,”_ Prompto said.

Ignis chuckled, practically hearing the grin on Prompto’s face. “What makes you say that?”

 _“Well, Cindy told Aranea she liked her armor and she got really flustered. Her face was as red as her dropship.”_ Prompto paused, letting out a nervous cough. _“Don’t, uh, tell her I said that. I kinda don’t want to die.”_

Ignis snorted. “I doubt she’d kill you. _Maim_ , perhaps, but I doubt she’d kill her”―his voice went up an octave―“ _sweet baby brother._ ”

 _“I called her ‘sis’_ **_one_ ** _time, Ignis,”_ Prompto whined, _“_ ** _one time!_** _"_

“And we’ll never let your forget it,” Ignis teased.

He heard Prompto blow a raspberry. _“You’re so lucky I love you, Iggy.”_

“I love you, too, dearest.”

* * *

Two weeks after Prompto left for Hammerhead, he didn’t call.

Ignis didn’t panic at first. He assumed something came up―perhaps there had been a minor threat that needed to be taken care of, or maybe he had just been busy. He didn’t feel the need to worry just yet and chose to focus on his research.

Then the minutes turned to hours. Prompto had been _late_ when he made his nightly call, but only by a few minutes. He had _never_ been three hours late.

 _Finally_ , after three hours and forty-five minutes, Ignis’ phone rings, the cheery chirping of a chocobo telling him it was Prompto.

 _“Specs.”_ The voice didn’t belong to Prompto. It was feminine, but it held a distinctive gruffness.

“Aranea,” Ignis greeted, suddenly feeling anxious. “Is everything alright?”

_“Not really. Daemons attacked Hammerhead. We’ve got it under control, but I figured you’d worry yourself sick if shortcake didn’t call.”_

“Is he hurt?” Ignis asked.

 _“He took a beating, but he should be back on his feet by tomorrow,”_ Aranea said.

“May I speak to him?”

_“He’s sleeping right now. I’ll have him call you when he wakes up, though.”_

“Okay. Thank you, Aranea,” Ignis said, trying to keep his voice steady.

 _“Don’t mention it.”_ With that, the line went dead.

Though he knew Prompto was alive and well, Ignis wasn’t able to shake the fear and worry. He sat down before his legs could give out on him and tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths.

_You weren’t there to protect him._

Then, an even worse thought: _you couldn’t have protected him, anyway._

Ignis scrubbed at his face with his hands. He hadn’t fought in months, and even then, he hadn’t been able to fight like he could before losing his sight. If he had gone with Prompto and tried to defend him, he might’ve made the situation worse. He shuddered at the thought of accidentally hitting Prompto with a dagger instead of a daemon.

That lead Ignis’ thought to a different path. If he could relearn how to cook, he could do the same with combat. He was sure of it.

Ignis wasn’t sure how long he sat there, thinking of ways to adapt his fighting style, when Prompto’s ringtone pulled him out of his thoughts. He fumbled with the phone, barely managing to keep himself from crying with relief when he answered it.

“Prompto―”

_“Shit, Ignis, I’m so sorry.”_

Ignis frowned. “Prompto, darling―”

_“We got attacked by a horde of daemons and I got so caught up I didn’t even see the―”_

“Darling,” Ignis said, “please calm down.”

Prompto fell silent. Ignis could hear him taking a few slow, deep breaths.

“If you believe I’m upset at you for not calling earlier, I assure you, I’m not,” Ignis soothed. “Aranea told me everything.”

_“Oh.”_

“I am, however, quite worried. How are you feeling?”

 _“I’m fine,”_ Prompto said, _“I mean, I feel like behemoth shit, but I’m alive.”_

“Then perhaps you should get some more rest, love,” Ignis said.

_“But―”_

“We can talk more tomorrow,” Ignis promised, “ _after_ you’ve slept.”

Prompto let out the whine he used when he knew Ignis was right, but didn’t want to admit it. _“Okay. But you better clear your schedule for tomorrow night, ‘cause I have a lot to say.”_

“I don’t doubt that,” Ignis said, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “Goodnight, dearest.”

_“G’night, Iggy.”_

* * *

The first thing Ignis’ mind registered when he woke up was the warmth at his side. At first, he thought nothing of it—the warmth was nice after nearly three weeks of the bed being cold.

Then he remembered that the warmth wasn’t there when he went to sleep the night before. Ignis’ instincts _screamed_ for him to summon his daggers, but the rational part of him had another thought: _what intruder would break into an apartment and spoon the person living there?_

Ignis’ suspicions were confirmed when the person beside him mumbled something about _chocobos_ in his sleep.

Ignis turned, managing to not wake Prompto up in the process. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, tucking his head under his chin.

“Welcome home, love,” Ignis murmured against Prompto’s hair. “I’ve missed you.”

Prompto’s only response was a sleepy grunt.

Ignis buried his nose into Prompto’s hair. This wasn’t a dream―he pinched himself to be sure, wincing quietly at the sharp pain in his arm. That was quickly forgotten in favor of holding his lover, pressing sweet, feather-light kisses to his hair and temple.

* * *

After nearly a year, Ignis could traverse Lestallum with little difficulty and, after a great deal of practice, could take a leisurely walk with a friend without needing them to pull him in the right direction. He was finally able to cook without much aid from Prompto, though it became less about helping Ignis prepare a meal and more about doing something together. He had, for the most part, regained his independence.

In that time, Ignis decided the next step to take was relearning to fight. He had no trouble convincing Cor to train him―in fact, the marshal seemed pleased to hear Ignis wanted to reacquaint himself with his lance and daggers.

Predictably, combat had been more of a challenge than cooking. Without his vision, Ignis was forced to rely on his other senses. The first few weeks had been difficult, and adapting took much longer than he would’ve liked.

Thankfully, Ignis had plenty of time, and Cor had a great deal of patience. By the time the marshal was through with him, Ignis swore he could fight better than he did before he lost his sight.

As Ignis began to take on hunts, however, he spent less and less time with Prompto. It was rare for them to go on hunts together, and when they did, they were often quite dangerous and didn’t allow for many displays of affection. Prompto also offered his assistance in Hammerhead from time to time, because he just couldn’t refuse a request from Cindy or Cid, and Ignis would often go to Niflheim with Aranea to search for survivors.

Ignis often wondered if Prompto resented him for not being around as much. They had plenty of time together before he became a hunter―they were able to go on dates, enjoy lazy morning kisses, and cook together back then. Prompto showed no sign of resentment, but that certainly didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

That brought a whole new thought: what if Prompto wanted to break up? He certainly wouldn’t blame him for wanting to, but the thought made his heart ache.

Ignis thought that day had come a month after he became a hunter, when Prompto said they needed to talk.

“So, um,” Prompto began, “this probably isn’t something you want to hear, but―”

Ignis felt his heart sink.

“―I’m going back to the First Magitek Production Facility.”

Ignis blinked. Initially, relief flooded through him― _he isn’t leaving you_ ―then he realized what Prompto was actually saying.

“Prompto, are you sure this is―”

“I have to do this, Ignis,” Prompto said. “We need more data on the starscourge, and I know there’s plenty of it there.”

“And you plan on doing that alone?” Ignis asked.

“Cor and Aranea will be there.”

Ignis knew Prompto would be safe with them. Aranea and Cor were both capable fighters, and they worked well with Prompto. He could’ve just left it at that.

“I want to come with you.”

“Ignis―”

Ignis cupped Prompto’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “If you were in my position, would you stay home while I traveled into enemy territory?”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Prompto murmured.

“Then let me be there for you, love.” Ignis pulled Prompto into his arms, placing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Please.”

Ignis felt Prompto’s arms slip around his neck. Finally, he said, “We leave tomorrow morning.”

“Then I suppose we should get ready.”

* * *

Ignis didn’t particularly mind getting up early. Back when he lived in Insomnia, he always woke up at six in the morning, though he didn’t need to be at the citadel until nine. It was enough time for him to prepare a hearty breakfast and enjoy a hot cup of coffee at a leisurely pace, and he _savored_ every last second.

Six in the morning was fine. It was a perfect hour to wake up. _Three_ in the morning, however, was a godsdamned abomination and he would absolutely shove a dagger through Cor’s stupid face.

When he said that to Prompto, all he got in response was a fit of laughter.

After Prompto’s laughter _finally_ died down, the two of them grabbed their things and left. Ignis had tried to snatch a can of Ebony out of the refrigerator before they left, but Prompto stopped him, mentioning something about crashing in one of the rooms aboard Aranea’s airship.

“Please don’t say you’ll shove a dagger in _my_ stupid face,” Prompto said, “I don’t think I can physically handle another laughing fit before seven in the godsdamned morning.”

Aranea’s airship was parked just outside of the city, close enough to the lights to keep the daemons at bay. There, they were greeted by Cor and Aranea, both of whom seemed surprised to see Ignis.

“I take it you didn’t inform them that I was coming?” Ignis asked.

“Forgot,” Prompto said sheepishly.

“Ignis,” Cor said, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m not happy to see you, but―”

“Y’know,” Aranea cut in, “it’d be smart to take him along. Wouldn’t hurt to have a tactician on our side.”

Cor exhaled slowly. “C’mon, then.” Apparently, the marshal was too tired to argue about it.

Maybe three in the morning wasn’t so terrible.

Ignis allowed Prompto to guide him to the nearest available room. He threw his bag onto one of the beds, then flopped down on the other. Ignis, on the other hand, chose to set his bag down next to the bed, then carefully climbed in next to his boyfriend.

Prompto, he noticed, was already asleep. Ignis smiled fondly, settling down beside him and draping an arm over his waist.

* * *

Even by airship, the journey to Niflheim took two days. Ignis was left with plenty of downtime, though he struggled to come up with something to do to alleviate the boredom. He didn’t feel comfortable working in an unfamiliar kitchen by himself, yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull Prompto away from the Niff technology Aranea was showing him.

So, Ignis chose to sit and listen to Prompto’s ramblings, unable to keep a smile off his face. It brought back a memory from long ago, when Noctis’ friendship with Prompto was still new. One of Noctis’ many game systems had been acting up, abruptly shutting down in the middle of a game. The prince had been prepared to get rid of it and just get a new one, but Prompto offered to take a look at it.

Ignis remembered occasionally glancing Prompto’s way as he worked. When the boy started taking the console apart, however, he grew quite interested. He ended up having a very interesting conversation about Prompto’s fascination with technology.

Though Prompto had been enthusiastic then, it paled greatly to the excited rambling he was hearing now. The only thing that would make this _perfect_ would be if Ignis could _see_ it.

 _Astrals_ , he loved him.

“Kid’s a genius,” Aranea said. “If you’re not careful, I might just steal him and make him my mechanic.”

Ignis chuckled, “I’m almost certain he’d go willingly, especially if it meant seeing someone he looked up to so much on a daily basis.”

“What can I say? I’m the best damn thing on Eos.”

Ignis rolled his eye, though he was inclined to agree. Aranea’s interactions with Prompto, though few and far between given the nature of her work, had done a great deal to help him overcome his trauma. Arguably, he wouldn’t even be here, had she not interfered when he had been stranded in Gralea’s icy tundra.

“Aranea?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Aranea let out a fond chuckle. “You don’t need to thank me for shit. He did it all himself―I just kicked him into gear.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of them. They went back to listening to Prompto exchanging theories with Biggs and Wedge, finding it difficult to keep a straight face.

* * *

That night, Ignis and Prompto were curled up together in the bed, with Prompto’s camera set aside on the nightstand. He had just finished Ignis pictures from one of his journeys to Altissa, which had somehow remained mostly intact since darkness swallowed them whole.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to sit in silence after Prompto shared his photos. They’d just hold each other, occasionally exchanging kisses and words of affection until they fell asleep.

Tonight, however, Ignis wasn’t quite able to relax. His thoughts kept turning to a remark Aranea had made while the two of them were alone, waiting for Cor to convince Prompto to leave the Niff technology long enough to get something to eat.

 _“I didn’t think he wanted to come back,”_ Aranea said. _“There’s gotta be something he’s after.”_

Ignis was inclined to agree. Prompto was certainly always willing to help his friends―there certainly was a chance he offered to go just to make things easier on Cor and Aranea―but it didn’t seem likely.

“Prompto―” Ignis cut himself off, internally screaming at himself.

“Yeah?”

Ignis tried to backpedal, but his mouth seemed to move without his permission. “Why did you choose to accompany Cor and Aranea to Niflheim?”

Prompto tensed up. Ignis expected him to lie or refuse to answer altogether, but tonight, Prompto didn’t seem to feel like hiding anything.

“When I was at the facility the first time, I was so in shock, I didn’t fully process everything I had read until we got back to Caem,” Prompto admitted. “It occurred to me that there was so much I didn’t know about _what_ I am.”

“Prompto―”

“Ignis,” Prompto said, “I already know what you’re about to say, and I _appreciate_ it, but it matters to me. There’s so many questions I have that I don’t know the answers to, and this might be my one chance to get them.”

 _Closure._ Prompto wanted _closure_ after all this time, and Ignis certainly couldn’t blame him. He tightened his hold on the gunner, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Then I’ll do what I can to support you,” Ignis said, his tone gentle. “Regardless of what you find, I won’t think of you any differently. You’ll always be Prompto Argentum―Crown citizen, Noct’s best friend, and the one I love.”

“Do you really mean that, Ignis?” Prompto’s voice was just above a whisper, as though he were afraid of the answer.

Ignis kissed his forehead. “With all my heart.”

* * *

Getting into the First Magitek Production Facility had been easy―the facility was abandoned, and there were few daemons lurking around. There was the occasional rogue magitek trooper, though those were quickly dispatched with a quick shot to the head or a well-placed dagger.

Finding the room that held the information they needed, however, was the hard part.

The facility was huge―it had to be, if Ignis’ footsteps echoed in the hallway. Had Prompto and Aranea not known the way, he would’ve certainly gotten lost. However, their knowledge of the facility was still limited, forcing them to search each lab they came across.

Finally, they found a room of interest―a lab that held several MT units in containment pods, as well a several piles of documents. The information was all written in Gralean, which only made finding the information they came for more difficult.

As Prompto searched through a set of files, he listed off every Gralean name for the starscourge, hoping Cor and Aranea would have better luck finding it. After hours of searching, Aranea found it under a more obscure name, though she did have Prompto read through some of it to make sure it lined up with the information they already had.

“It appears we’ve found the right file,” Ignis said. “Aranea, did you see anything else?”

“Nada,” Aranea sighed. She turned her attention to Cor. “You got anything?”

“Looks like something documenting the history of the starscourge,” Cor said, “but my Gralean’s a bit rusty.” He handed it off to Prompto, who skimmed the document.

“Yeah,” Prompto said, “It’s pretty detailed, too.”

As Cor and Aranea combed through the documents a second time to find related information, Prompto handed Ignis a few files. Ignis raised an eyebrow in question.

“Those are on the magitek troopers. Could you hold onto those for me?”

“Of course,” Ignis said. “Have you found anything else?”

“I found my file.”

_Oh._

Ignis placed a comforting hand on Prompto’s shoulder. He smiled when the gunner leaned into the touch.

“Are you alright?” Ignis asked, voice low.

“Those MTs over there,” Prompto said, “they’re defective.”

Prompto sounded hopeful, as though he could give the defective MTs a chance at a better life. The rational part of Ignis wanted to remind him that they were considered defective for many reasons―attacking their commanding officer, or insubordination, or behaviors deemed too aggressive even by Niflheim’s standards.

Instead, he asked, “Do you plan on freeing them?”

Ignis’ question remained unanswered for several minutes as Prompto searched through the files for a number matching one of the defective MTs. Finally, he said, “They’ve been decommissioned a long time ago. They were supposed to be used for scraps.”

Though Prompto had made some effort to hide it, Ignis could detect disappointment in his tone. He gave the gunner’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, though he knew it wouldn’t help much.

“We’ve got what we came for,” Cor said, shoving the documents into his bag. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

* * *

“Are you alright, darling?”

Ignis already knew the answer. Prompto hadn’t said a word since they returned to the airship, all his attention on the documents taken from the facility. Carefully, he sat down on the bed, choosing a spot that wasn’t occupied by papers.

“Prompto, love,” Ignis said, “please answer me.”

“I… no,” Prompto sighed. “I’m not.”

Ignis wrapped his arms around Prompto’s thin frame, burying his nose into his shoulder. “Would you care to talk about it?”

“I think I’d like to be alone for a little while,” Prompto said, his voice quiet.

“Of course,” Ignis murmured, giving him one last squeeze. He slowly pulled away from him, just in case he changed his mind.

He didn’t. Prompto said nothing as Ignis left the room, leaving him to wonder just what was written in the file.

 _He’ll tell you later,_ Ignis told himself. _He’ll speak when he’s ready._

Ignis stood in the hallway for several minutes, deciding that if he couldn’t get Prompto to open up, maybe he could focus his efforts on cheering him up. The first order of business, he decided, was a hot meal.

Aranea hadn’t been difficult to find. She wasn’t one to stay in one place for long, moving about the ship to attend to various projects. It reminded him of his life in Insomnia, where he rushed about the citadel to attend to all the matters that required his attention.

Getting permission to use the kitchen hadn’t been difficult, either―Aranea even offered to help, provided Ignis made that “godsdamned delicious orange cake” for her.

Cooking with Aranea was… _interesting._ She cracked the eggs too hard when they made the orange cake and Ignis was almost certain she’d break the bowl when she pounded the curry paste, but the final product came out perfect.

With Aranea’s assistance, Ignis brought a bowl of curry and a slice of cake for him and Prompto. Upon entering the room, they were met with soft snores. Aranea chuckled, setting the dishes down on the nightstand.

“Kid could’ve at least picked up his mess before he passed out,” she said fondly. Ignis could hear her gathering the files up off the bed. “I’m gonna go get some cake before Biggs and Wedge get to it. There won’t be any left if they get their hands on it.”

“You know,” Ignis said, “I _could_ give you the recipe.”

“You _could_ ,” Aranea said, walking towards the door, “but I don’t think I want to pick eggshells out of cake batter again. I think I should leave the cooking to the professionals.”

“I suppose so,” Ignis conceded. “Oh, one more thing!”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for your help.”

“Don’t mention it, Specs.” With that, Aranea left.

Ignis carefully set the dishes he was carrying down on the nearest stable surface, hoping it wasn’t too close to the edge. Then, he reached out to Prompto, finding his shoulder and giving him a gentle shake.

“Darling,” Ignis murmured, “I made dinner.”

“Mmh?” Prompto stirred, eventually sitting up. “‘S that curry?”

Ignis smiled, pressing a soft kiss to Prompto’s temple. “Yes. Cake, too.”

“You’re the best, Iggy.”

Ignis only chuckled in response, handing Prompto a bowl.

As they ate, a comfortable silence fell over the two of them. Ignis had so many questions that he desperately wanted to know the answer to. There was something in those files that was causing Prompto distress, but now wasn’t the time to bring it up.

 _If he wants to talk, he’ll do so when he’s ready,_ he reminded himself. He opened up about Gralea, he’ll surely open up about this.

Until that time comes, though, Ignis was content with pretending everything was okay.


End file.
